Full Circle
by Nike Femme
Summary: Edward Elric returns with amnesia. He has lived the past four years as Auric, a Gatekeeper. But there are some battles that only he can fight. Will his friends be able to awaken Ed, and what happens to Auric if they do? RoyEd. Eventually.
1. Gatekeeper

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy.

This idea just popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I started typing it up. It's leaving another one of my fics (for _Shaman King_) stranded, so please, please, please review if you enjoy it so that I can feel as though poor Yoh & Co. are being left hanging for a good reason. I know the first chapter may not seem entirely related, but I promise all our favorite characters start wandering into the picture come Chapter 2!

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Gatekeeper**_

He had been a Gatekeeper for four years now. That much, at least, he knew.

He also knew that he was considered to be one of the best at what he did. His reputation stemmed from that day exactly four years ago when his people had found him, battered, bleeding, and unconscious, lying by the side of a road, looking like another casualty of war. They had taken him in and cared for him, expecting nothing in return. It was simply their way. But when the last Gatekeeper had lost control of an incoming Gate, he had leapt up from his sickbed and taken control of the energy stream, channeling it through his body and slamming it into the earth to ground the portal, saving the village.

At that moment a legend was born. No other Gatekeeper in living memory had ever been able to regain control of the Gatestream after a connection had been broken prior to closure – the positive feedback whiplash generally killed the Gatekeepers on either side of the connection. That was generally how Gatekeepers died, if sickness or violence did not overtake them first. Opening and maintaining the Gates between worlds was a rare gift, but one that came at a high price.

It was all quite scientific, really. The law of conservation of energy. For matter to travel through the gate, an equivalent amount of energy needed to flow through in the opposite direction in order for balance to be maintained. To open a Gate, a Gatekeeper would send out a small amount of energy to another Gatekeeper waiting at the desired destination. The second Gatekeeper would ground the current, opening a portal. As matter was transported – people, goods, messages – the Gatekeepers would keep the current flowing in the opposite direction.

The problem was, the energy to keep that current flowing had to originate from somewhere. Or more precisely, someone.

For small amounts of matter, enough to keep commerce and trade going, it was a negligible drain on the Gatekeepers. There had also been more of them to share the burden. But when the war between worlds broke out, and as that war raged on, more Gatekeepers were dying, leaving fewer who could bear up to the task of harnessing the Gatestream. They were also being asked to transport far larger quantities of matter than ever before: troops, artillery, supplies – they had to be moved en masse, requiring phenomenal efforts on the part of Gatekeepers. Many of them died under the strain of it.

Not him though. His powers bordered on the inhuman. Sometimes they scared him. He supposed he would feel better about them if he knew more about his past and where they came from. But that was another toll required by this gift.

No Gatekeeper had any memory of his life prior to becoming a Gatekeeper. It was simply a fact, part of the price they paid for this gift. No one even knew where Gatekeepers came from – they simply turned up and were accepted into the community that found them. Hence the ingrained courtesy towards all strangers – you never knew if you had found a Gatekeeper in disguise. A Gatekeeper could take a name of his choosing, or be given one by his community.

They called him Auric. It had been little Nina, daughter of the village elder, who had given him his name. When he had asked why, she had giggled before telling him it was on account of his unusual golden hair and eyes. It had been embarrassing, but he had accepted the name in the spirit it was given. His colouring was a little vivid in their land of muted browns and greens. He wondered where he had come from and who he had been before his arrival here.

"Auric?"

He turned, his reverie momentarily interrupted. His partner, Alp stood smiling at him. When the war had broken out years ago, the Gatekeepers Guild had mobilized and reorganized themselves for battle efficiency. Each Gatekeeper took on a partner – to watch their backs, to help stabilize the ever-larger Gates, to ensure that one could teleport ahead if necessary when emergency connections had to be created between two regions. He had been thrown together with Alp pretty much by chance, but it would always be something he was grateful for. Their personalities were complementary – where Auric was quick and impulsive, Alp was steady and methodical - and Alp had become his best friend and anchor. Despite Alp being slightly taller and rounder of face, sandy-haired and grey-eyed, they were often mistaken for brothers by those who didn't know them. At least until the observer caught a glimpse of the black gauntlets and doubled string of amber beads hidden beneath the folds of their weather-stained hunter-green cloaks. In combination, those three innocuous items of apparel marked them as Gatekeepers.

"Auric, I'm heading over to the hall to hear the latest news from the front. Do you want to come?"

He shook his head, smiling faintly. "No, Alp, it'll be more of the same. I'd like some quiet time before we have to get to work again."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot, today's your Aleph Day, isn't it?" Alp said in a too-bright tone of voice. Auric smirked knowingly and his partner's face fell. "Fine, I didn't forget. I got you something."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. I know your dreams get worse around this time. Maybe this will help." Alp held out a small leather-bound journal. Auric took it in awe. Paper, proper paper, was hard to come by at the moment, all available supplies being taken up for military use. To have a whole book handed to you thusly! He opened it reverently, rifling its blank pages, breathing in the smell of leather and pulp – and was that a real pencil? He looked up, speechless. Alp beamed down at him happily. "You used to draw, remember? That always seemed to calm you down."

"Alp…" he found he couldn't continue. The usual platitudes would have cheapened the gift. "I love it. Thank you." He reached out and gripped Alp's forearm in a warrior's handshake, then decided it wasn't enough and pulled the bigger youth in for a backslapping hug. "Thank you."

Alp ducked his head awkwardly, but he was obviously pleased with the reception his gift had received. "You're welcome. I'll see you later." He made as if to leave, then paused and turned around, grinning, "Happy Aleph Day."

Auric watched his partner head off, then turned his attention back to the book in his lap. He picked up the pencil and twirled it lovingly in his fingers, then smoothed his hand over the first page and wrote the date down. Aleph Day. The only date of significance he had to hold on to. The anniversary of the day he lost his past and gained his present. The day he woke up a Gatekeeper.

He'd asked Alp once if his Aleph Day bothered him. Alp had given the thought serious consideration, then shaken his head. "No. Not really. But then I became a Gatekeeper at a much younger age than you, so I had less of a life to lose. No, I don't have dreams. Why?"

Why indeed. Auric sighed. Those damned dreams. His hand began to move over the blank sheets before him. Always in the same order. A house in flames. A winged snake twisted around a cross. An armored knight reaching out to him, red eyes glowing from within the helm. His own reflection in a mirror, but with bitter, angry eyes as he holds up his right arm encased in what looks like armor that stretches from shoulder to fingertips. And last of all a dark-haired man with burning eyes he doesn't recognize, cupping a flame in his gloved hand as he says something. Auric could never quite hear what it was before waking up in a sweat. Fulminate? Fool meta? He frowned continuing to fill in details. What on earth was a meta, anyway?

By the time the sketches were done to his satisfaction, the sun was high in the sky. Auric closed the journal and slipped it safely into the inner pocket of his cloak. Alp was right as always, he did feel better for having set the images down on paper. He straightened up, stretching out his back and flexing his fingers. Where had Alp gotten to? It shouldn't have taken him this long to find out the latest news. His stomach growled, and he realized that it was almost lunchtime, so deciding that searching went better on a full stomach, he turned his steps towards the inn where he and Alp often had their meals. He could almost smell the meat pies.

"Auric!" came a breathless cry. "Auric!" He turned sharply at the note of fear in the voice. It was little Nina. She fell into his arms as he stooped down to hear her better. "Hurry…the front…lines broken through…wounded incoming…retreat…."

"Where is Alp?" he asked urgently.

"He told me to tell you he would teleport ahead to the front and open a Gate from there! Hurry Auric!" she wailed, tears running down her cheeks.

He took off running towards the village square, the only place large enough to open a Gate of the size required. A part of his mind vaguely registered that others were running with him, villagers and military support personnel who had heard the news. Shouts of "Make way for the Gatekeeper!" and "Clear for incoming wounded!" resounded distantly in his ears. As he ran, he reached out with his mind, searching for the ripple of energy in the ether that would be Alp's beacon to him across the miles that separated them.

Auric skidded to a halt in the middle of the dusty village square, throwing back his cloak and whipping off his beads. Holding them up in a doubled strand, one loop inside another, he lowered his head and took a deep breath, calming himself. This was going to be a particularly difficult Gate, he knew, because the energies being thrown off by the explosions at the front would destabilize the Gatestream. He would need to focus. The world seemed to fade away with him at the middle of a shadowy darkness. Sounds became muffled. Even the wind stilled for that split second. He felt Alp's presence tickle at the edges of his consciousness, and his head snapped up, his golden eyes blazing as he channeled his powers into the beads, which began to glow. He slammed his right hand to the ground, then flung the beads into the air, where they scattered to form the outlines of a huge circle. A whirlpool of light formed almost immediately.

"Kai!" The word of power cracked out like a whip and suddenly the newly formed Gate was filled with screaming, crying masses. Auric shuddered as they poured through, the wounded, the dying, and in some cases, the dead, dragged by their comrades. He hoped Alp was holding up all right grounding the massive energy flow Auric was sending his way to balance the mass transfer. An explosion on the other side of the gate shook the Gatestream for an instant, and he cursed at himself mentally to focus – Alp was perfectly capable of doing what need to be done. He'd been a Gatekeeper for twice as long as Auric!

Minutes passed. Or hours. Or days. Auric didn't know anymore. His world had narrowed down to that bright Gatestream flowing between Alp and himself. He fell forward, catching himself with his hands, and realized belatedly that he was already kneeling in the dirt before the Gate – his knees must have buckled earlier. How many more people? How much more energy? Did he have enough? He crawled almost blindly towards the Gate, almost getting knocked over in the chaos of people running to and fro. "Alp?" he croaked out. "What's our status? How much longer?" His vision was beginning to blur, and the clouds of smoke and dust in the air weren't exactly aiding visibility. It was all becoming rather surreal actually. "Alp?" he called again.

Finally his partner came staggering into view. He was streaked with blood and dust and pale as death, but for all that, he was still moving. He grimaced at Auric, who knew he must look just as bad. "You look like hell. Can you hold on for a few more minutes? They're just moving the last of the post-op patients from the MASH."

"Oh please, you forget who you're talking to," retorted Auric, baring his teeth wolfishly, a display of bravado that would have been more convincing had he not suddenly started to cough, a horrid wet hacking sound that brought up blood. He stared at the dark splatter on the earth before him in mild surprise. So he did have his limits after all. This was the longest they'd ever held a Gate open after all…he wondered in semi-delirium if it was going to add to his legend and finally decided that it would. Especially if it killed him.

"Auric!" gasped Alp. "I'll close the Gate. We can re-open it again…."

"No!" snarled Auric. "I can do this! Just a few more minutes…."

"Auric," Alp opened his mouth to argue again. And then the unthinkable happened. An enemy shell came whistling through the air in seeming slow motion. Alp turned, eyes widening in shock. Auric reached desperately for his partner, as if to drag him through the Gate by sheer force of will.

The shell exploded. And Auric knew with a fatal certainty that Alp was dead and that he was going to follow in less than a second. There was a scream from behind him and he knew it was Nina without looking. Nina…all the people of the village…they were all going to die. This entire village would be blown off the face of existence from the Gatestream backlash that was about to occur. All the people they had evacuated would find that Death had found them though they had sought to escape his clutches. Alp would have died for nothing.

And something in Auric snapped. He pushed to his feet shakily. He could feel the other end of the Gatestream screaming towards him, its tethering cable snapped with Alp's death, coming to deal death of its own.

Well, fuck you too.

And just as he had four years ago, Auric raised his arms and clasped the incoming Gatestream to him, letting it pass through his body, bending it to his will, dredging up every last ounce of energy he had left, intent on joining it with the end he already held captive. Turned back on itself, he could feel the Gatestream resisting, fighting him, and suddenly the image of a snake eating its tail popped into his head. Gritting his teeth, he slowly brought his hands together, forcing the two ends to meet.

His hands clapped together. There was a huge explosion, followed by a soft pattering that sounded like rain. And when Nina ran forward, all that remained of the golden-haired Gatekeeper was a smoking crater with a pile of gently smoking amber beads lying in the bottom of it.


	2. Don't You Know Me?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy.

This idea just popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I started typing it up. It's leaving another one of my fics (for _Shaman King_) stranded, so please, please, please review if you enjoy it so that I can feel as though poor Yoh & Co. are being left hanging for a good reason.

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_**  
Chapter 2: Don't You Know Me?**_

It had been four years.

Four years since Alphonse Elric had been returned to his body at the age of 15. He was now 19. An alchemist. A pillar of the community of Risembool. Married to the talented mechanic Winry Rockbell. He was even father to an adorable one-year-old girl.

And yet he still felt alone. And he knew he always would. For his brother was dead and never coming back.

Edward Elric, Full Metal Alchemist, legendary prodigy, military Major, friend and brother, had sacrificed his life to bring his brother back from death and keep the promise he had made when they were children. He always did have an unshakable moral code about that sort of thing.

Bastard.

Al sighed and kicked a piece of rubble. He had returned to the ruins of their childhood home, as he always did on this day. Winry understood his need to see where everything had all began. Where two talented brothers had been born and where they had been forced to grow up all too quickly. Where events had been set in motion that had led one of them to death and another to life. The man scowled, an uncharacteristic expression for his normally pleasant face, his grey eyes hooded and dark.

"Brother, if you can hear me, you had no right – no right! – to make that choice," he said out loud. He could almost hear his brother scoffing and pointing out that not three minutes prior to said choice being made, Al had done exactly the same thing. And that he was the older brother, shorter or not, and therefore had more of a say in the matter. And that he'd obviously succeeded at making his alchemy stick over his brother's, youngest-ever State Alchemist that he was, so what was the point of dragging all this up now? Move forwards, not backwards. Al sighed heavily, running a hand through his short sandy locks. "I can be just as stubborn as you, brother. And you're not going to make me feel any better."

The sun was setting by the time he decided he was ready to face his life again. As he walked out – or over – what had been the front door, he turned to give the place one last look. And stiffened. Something was wrong…he could feel a strange heaviness in the air. It fairly crackled with what felt like alchemic energy. Al tensed, ready for…well, he wasn't entirely sure yet. But if nothing else, his brother had taught him to trust his instincts. And something very weird was happening right now.

Before he had time to do anything concrete, however, a huge boom shook the foundations and toppled a few of the more haphazardly tilted beams. Al coughed and waved a hand about to clear the dust from his field of vision. He could see something moving in the darkness of a pile of rubble, and his caution turned to concern. "Hello? Is someone there?" Upon receiving no reply, he started to make his way carefully over the loose rubble. A groan made him quicken his pace. "Hang on! I'm coming. Just stay put. Are you hurt badly?" He had to transmute a couple of large chunks of plaster to clear a path. As the last piece fell into dust under his hand, Al covered his nose with his handkerchief and stepped forward. "Hello?" And then his grey eyes fell on the prone body lying there and he gasped, before rushing forward and cradling it in his arms, babbling incoherently.

* * *

Winry Rockbell Elric closed the guest room door softly but didn't leave immediately. On the other side of the door, she could hear her husband rocking himself back and forth nervously in a chair by the bedside of their new – and so far, unconscious – guest. She bit back tears and put a hand over her mouth to suppress the sobs that had threatened to burst forth the moment she had gotten a good look at the person her husband was carrying carefully in his arms, head lolling back, face obscured by a fall of golden hair.

Edward Elric had evidently done some growing in the years he had been away from his family. His hair was still the colour of sun-ripened wheat, and she was certain that, when Granny Pinako had pulled up his eyelids to check his pupils for signs of concussion, she had caught a glint of gold in the lamplight. But he was considerably taller for Ed, making him just a hair's breadth below average height for anyone else. His face was gaunter with the loss of its puppy fat, revealing a set of cheekbones sharp enough to cut yourself on, and his skin so pale as to be nearly translucent, against which his dark lashes stood out in a sooty shadowed sweep. There were fine lines of weariness eched around his eyes, making him look older than his twenty years. Most changed of all was the fact that he was whole. Two good arms and two good legs, no automail anywhere in sight. How that had happened was beyond her, but then this was the Full Metal Alchemist who had essentially raised her husband from the dead. She hiccupped. Nothing, it seemed, was beyond Ed.

"Winry?" She turned in surprise as Al stepped out of the room as quietly as she had. He shut the door behind him, then put his arms around her as she leaned into his bulk, grateful for the warm, comforting touch.

"I was just thinking…it's him, Al. After all these years. He's come back to us, and whole. How?"

Al shook his head slowly. "I don't know. He just seemed to appear. But it's brother…I suppose we shouldn't be too surprised." He hugged her tight. "Just grateful. Oh Winry…he's come back. I missed him so much…." She could feel her husband shaking, and she reached up and rubbed the back of his neck gently.

"Come on. I'll sit with him while you put Winnie down for bed."

A slight smile rose in Al's eyes. "Winnie…Edwina will get to meet her namesake. Oh, this is like the most wonderful dream…I don't want to wake up, Winry."

She hugged him again, fiercely. "You won't. Because this is real. Ed's done it again. He's come home."

* * *

So the afterlife smelled like frying bacon and eggs, the blonde man though. Interesting. His eyes were still shut, but he was giving serious consideration to opening them and seeking out the source of those heavenly aromas. And then he smelled fresh coffee and his eyes snapped open, a move he regretted almost immediately since the sunlight was streaming directly into his eyes. He squinted against the glare, confused. Where was he? These certainly weren't the cramped quarters he shared with Alp. His eyes roved about the sunlit, whitewashed, tidy little room decorated with cheerful pictures on the walls. Not a hospital either then…too homey, and the cold smell of metal, antiseptic and blood was noticeably absent. He wiggled his fingers and toes experimentally. Yup, all there, although his chest was aching for some reason.

A child giggled what sounded like downstairs, and the unmistakable tones of a mother's scolding floated up, although he couldn't quite make out the specifics. He was in someone's home then? It was common practice for families to take Gatekeepers in when the latter needed nursing...and all at once the memory of what had happened came rushing back to him. His Aleph Day. The Gate. Alp being blown up before his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut again against the hot prickling of tears. Yet another part of his life ripped away from him because he had survived something that should have killed him. He was starting to think of it as some kind of curse. Footsteps could be heard walking up the stairs, which creaked slightly, and then the door to his room opened. Not wanting to face anyone at this point, he allowed himself to relax and feigned sleep.

"Is he awake?" a hushed female voice asked.

"Doesn't look like it," came the soft murmur of a male voice. There was something almost familiar about it though, a voice he'd heard before.

"I was hoping he might be able to eat something, he's looking so thin. What do you think he did to himself that caused all that bruising?"

"I don't know, but knowing his temper, I wouldn't want to see the other guy," was the half-rueful, half-amused reply. "Remember how I used to have to hold him off the Colonel…oh, I mean General?"

The man twitched in surprise. General? He hadn't come into contact with any military personnel of late. Gatekeepers operated as their own guild and while the war had required coordination with the military, he certainly didn't go out of his way to run into military personnel. For one thing, their obsession with rules was at odds with the maverick nature of most Gatekeepers. There was an exclamation and he felt the male of the pair pad over to his bedside. "Brother, are you awake?"

Busted. Nothing for it, he supposed, and sat upright abruptly, regretting it almost immediately when a flash of pain shot through his skull from one side to the other. A gentle arm slipped behind him, and he leaned gratefully into the support. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, he willed his eyes to focus on the source of the voice. The face wavered and finally resolved itself into…. "Alp! You're alive!" He gasped in disbelief. Denial warred with hope, and the latter won as he latched on to his partner gratefully. "How did you survive the explosion? The Gate? Oh it doesn't matter. I'm just so glad you're all right."

Confusion warred with relief in those familiar grey eyes as the man holding him pulled back to study his face carefully. "Brother, what are you talking about? It's Al, remember? You brought me back four years ago. We thought you were…dead."

He froze, his mind finally processing the man's earlier words. "Brother?" Four years ago?...

The eyes flickered. "Don't you remember me?"

Slowly, bewilderedly, Auric shook his head.

And Alphonse Elric's world came crashing down about him once more.


	3. Acceptance

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy.

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_**Chapter 3: Acceptance**_

Winry poured a generous slug of whiskey into her coffee and knocked it back in one gulp. She needed it, even if it was only eleven in the morning. "Want some?" she offered brusquely to the man sitting across from her at the kitchen table. He looked up, surprised, then shook his head, smiling faintly. Winnie babbled softly in her high-chair, reaching out with one fat little hand and gurgling in satisfaction when the nice, new, interesting man agreeably offered up a finger.

"You're handling this awfully well," she grumbled.

Auric shrugged. "I like children. And this isn't the first time I've had my life evaporate on me," he pointed out. "Most Gatekeepers develop a pretty fatalistic attitude to whatever fate chooses to throw at them. You have to, given that your chances of dying on any particular day are generally higher than most people's."

"You have that in common with Ed," she mumbled. "Magnets for weird things happening. Although I suspect he wouldn't be reacting this well if your situations were reversed."

A hint of amusement rose in the golden eyes. "I have to say though, it's a little odd talking about myself in the third person. Although it's nice to know what my original name was. Edward Elric, eh?" A whimsical smile. "A strong name - I like it. Auric…Elric…at least there's a hint of commonality there."

Winry sighed. "You really don't remember anything?"

The smile faded. "Winry, I would give my right arm to remember…."

"Don't say that!" she barked, jumping up and almost upsetting the table. Surprised, Winnie began to cry and Winry swore under her breath. "Shit. Hold on," she picked up Winnie and hugged her to her chest. "Shh, shh, it's all right sweetheart, mommy didn't mean to scare you."

He said nothing, just watched as she soothed the crying child until Winnie fell asleep on her shoulder. Winry padded out and handed the baby to Granny Pinako. "How is Al?" she asked in hushed tones.

"As well as can be expected. He's outside, thinking. How is our guest?"

Winry rolled her eyes and headed back to the kitchen, where she found Auric leaning against the counter staring out the window. Following his gaze, she saw her husband sitting hunched over by the bank of the brook in their garden.

"I'm sorry." He didn't look at her.

"It's not your fault," she said mechanically. "It's just…you know…and then your arm and leg…."

He looked up at last. "Yeah." After calming Alphonse down, Winry had sat down with a confused Auric and filled him in. He had seen the photographs. Two little boys with shining faces, their identical smiles marking them as brothers despite the difference in coloring. A grim-faced child with golden eyes that dared the world to take him on, a glint of metal between glove and sleeve. Some kind of accident, she had said vaguely, Al can fill you in on the details later. A blonde youth in a blue military uniform, a look of exasperation on his face as he suffered a gloved hand pinning something on his chest.

Him. This had been his life. But he didn't remember any of it. And judging by the reactions of the people around him, he was getting off easily. Alp…no, Alphonse in this world…was taking it very badly. He supposed he could relate…Alp had been the closest thing he had had to family, and the feeling of rejection by his look-alike was surprisingly painful, even though he knew intellectually that Alp was dead. So for Alphonse, having his brother, to whom he had been extraordinarily close by all accounts, in essence reject him…well….

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. Winry was looking at him with a very serious expression. "Auric. Would you please go talk to Al?"

"Are you sure he wants me to?"

"Men! He may not want you to, but you have to anyway," said Winry firmly. "Don't make me do what I used to do with Ed."

"Which was?"

She held up a wrench silently. He held up his hands in surrender and turned to the door. She watched him go, a wistful look lurking in her eyes.

Ed would have put up more of a fuss, even if it meant getting beaned with a wrench.

* * *

The sunlight on the water was mesmerizing, Al thought. If you stared at it long enough, your mind became one with the hypnotic sparkle, and then you didn't have to think, didn't have to feel, didn't have to be anything. Didn't have to think about your brother who didn't remember you, didn't remember mom, didn't remember the sacrifice he had made.

"Hey."

Bugger.

"Winry suggested that we should talk."

Al snorted. "Knowing my wife, I doubt it was a suggestion."

A snicker. "She was waving a rather large wrench around at the time." Al didn't look up as Auric sat down next to him gracefully. "So. Do you want to talk?"

"Not really."

"All right then." And the other man stretched out lazily on the grass, putting his hands behind his head. Al stole a glance. Auric's eyes were shut against the glare, but that was Ed's face and Ed's hair and Ed's voice and Ed's _presence_ and…and….

He didn't realize he was crying until Auric silently handed over a handkerchief. "Thanks."

"No problem." Finally Auric spoke again. "Tell me about him. Tell me about me."

"I don't know where to start," Al admitted.

"How about at the beginning?" laughed Auric. "We were…are brothers. What were our parents like?"

And slowly, hesitantly, Al began to talk. Auric listened intently, chin on hand, elbow on knee.

* * *

"General."

"Hmm?" Roy looked up in surprise. Captain Hawkeye had inserted herself almost silently into his office, and that wasn't like her; she was very strict about military protocol, if for no other reason than to keep Havoc, Fury, and the rest of his motley crew on their toes. For her to be slipping around like a common footpad was unusual, to say the least.

"You should see this. It's from Colonel Hughes." She handed out an innocuous brown folder.

Roy reached for the folder slowly, giving it a suspicious glare. He had formulated a theory that the worst news always came in the simplest of packages. Carefully, cautiously, he opened the folder and scanned the top sheet.

He normally took great pride in his reputation for always being right. And then there were days like this one when he just hated it.

"They're really going to do this. Draft all the civilian alchemists and put them on the frontlines." The war was going badly, he knew, but this move by the Fueher just reeked of desperation. "This will end in tears."

"Look at the first name on the list, General."

"Alphonse Elric," he read numbly. Oh dear. The file nearly slipped from his fingers, and for some reason the only thing he could think was that if anything could bring Edward Elric back from whatever afterlife he now inhabited, this would be it. If only so that he could strangle Mustang for not protecting his little brother as promised. His eyes fell on the photograph that sat on the corner of his desk, the one sentimental item he allowed himself, and he took a deep breath, composing himself and allowing the ingrained habits of a long life in the military to take over. When he raised his head again, only the bland mask of a Major General stared calmly back at his PA.

"Captain."

"Sir." Hawkeye was already standing at attention.

"Tell the Colonel I need a secure line..."

"…to call the Elrics, yes sir, he says it will be ready in two hours…"

"…volunteers get to pick their own units, don't they? And we have a spot…"

"…headcount already confirmed, sir, and might I respectfully suggest that rather than a telegram…"

"...by the way, I heard the telegram wires to Risembool were blown up in the last attack and will be…"

"…it will take about a week to restore, so for the sake of expediency the draft notice should be sent…"

"…by courier? But it's such a long way to Risembool, and anyway, we have…"

"…no one to spare to courier the message, sir, we're shorthanded as it is…"

"…so send it by mail, Captain, we can't help that the postal service is dysfunctional at the moment…"

"…perhaps a ticket waiting at the station for the first train out tomorrow…"

"You have your orders, Captain."

"Yes, sir."

As Riza Hawkeye left the office, she could see her CO reach out with a gloved hand and deliberately turn the photo frame face down.

* * *

"You always were a dab hand when it came to drawing," Al said absently as he flipped through the journal Auric had handed him. "Watching you create an array was always impressive – not that you often needed to, of course – you never had to rub out anything or overdraw. It was like you had it complete in your mind before you even began." He looked up. "Brother…um…Auric?"

Auric was rolled over onto his stomach, staring into space. At Al's voice, he started and looked over. "Sorry. It's just a lot to digest. Not that I don't believe you or anything, but Alchemy doesn't exist in my world. Just the Gates, and the laws that apply to them, although there are similarities. Conservation of energy sounds a lot like equivalent exchange."

Al smiled. "Stands to reason you would be a Gatekeeper then." He had to admit that as much as he was still upset over not getting his brother back…_yet_, he insisted to himself, surely Ed would remember in time, after all, he'd remembered in his dreams, hadn't he?…Auric was interesting as a separate identity. He could see flashes of his brother's temper in him, but Auric was more contained, more controlled…and a whole lot less angry. He supposed it had something to do with the loss of painful memories and the whole fatalistic ethos of the Gatekeepers Guild that seemed to be the only real ties Auric had had in his four years of existence. "Tell me more about what Gatekeepers do?"

A negligent shrug. Al had also noticed that where Ed had always given off the impression of a hovering bird of prey, ready to attack in a blinding swoop of wings and claws, Auric was more relaxed, or at least gave off the impression of being so, more like a watchful cat. A lot like a certain General, actually. "We open Gates. We close Gates. Move things through Gates. Act as couriers for messages that have to get to somewhere fast – we can teleport ourselves without opening a Gate." A momentary look of sadness crossed his face. "That's how Alp went on ahead to the front."

"Do you have to have been where you're going to do that?" asked Al, fascinated.

"No. As long as we're told where we're going, we can feel the destination through the _qi_ lines…um…they're lines of energy that run throughout the fabric of the world. When we open a Gate, we're really just bending them to our will. Other Guild responsibilities…we're great spies and we sometimes freelance as secret bodyguards. But if you repeat that, I'll have to kill you."

Al blinked.

"Kidding. There's no one you could tell who would matter, anyway." Auric stretched luxuriously, then winced as a strained muscle made its displeasure known. "Think about it. We can go where we would at will…most people look at us and see a Gatekeeper and not an individual face…and we're all very well trained in hand-to-hand. You have to be if you're ferrying secrets about. So the Guild, in its infinite wisdom, decided that the occasional trade of skills for money or influence made sense."

"Equivalent exchange," murmured Al.

Auric looked over, startled. "In a sense, yes. Politics and power consists of trading favors after all. Speaking of." He looked pointedly at his journal lying open in Al's lap, and made an interrogative noise in his throat.

"Oh! Well, the first drawing is the place I found you…it was where we lived as children. We burned it down when you became a State Alchemist…you told me it was so that we would move forwards and not backwards. The second one is an alchemic symbol. Our teacher wore it, and so we did too…and after your…disappearance, the Fueher himself bestowed it upon us as the official Elric family crest." Al rolled up a sleeve to reveal the snake and cross on his upper arm. "When you brought me back, this was on my arm, probably from the transmutation process."

"The next one is the suit of armor you bound my soul to. And that's you, with your automail arm." Al's eyes lingered happily over Auric's intact right hand. "And the last one, that's…that's General Mustang."

"The man I used to work for?" Auric asked. "Why would I remember him of all people?"

"I don't know," said Al, a frown creasing his brow. "Maybe because he was the one who looked out for us as kids?"

"That doesn't make sense, then I would surely have remembered Winry and Granny Pinako." A familiar intensity was now seeping into the golden eyes. Al remembered that look well. It was the look that Ed used to get whenever a new problem had presented itself that required solving. "He's always saying something to me too, in that dream. Fulminate?"

"Ful-min-ate…" Al sounded out slowly. "Fullmetal! That was your title. All State Alchemists get an official title to use. General Mustang is the Flame Alchemist. And you're the famous Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Was, Al. I'm no alchemist now. Just a humble Gatekeeper a long way from home." Auric bit his tongue the moment the words slipped out, as he saw Al's expression. "Al, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rub it in."

Al shook his head. "I'm sorry too, Auric."

A golden brow arched. "For what?"

"For…well…I haven't exactly reacted in the best way. And if I've made you feel like I'm angry at you for not being who I want you to be…well…I am angry. But not at you. You can't help that you are who you are. I just wish things had turned out differently, that's all."

"Fate is. We can but change how we deal with it." One corner of Auric's mouth crooked up. "Unofficial motto of the Guild. Just the sort of crap you'd expect from a bunch of people with no memories." He stood and dusted himself off. "Shall we go in? It's getting late, and I'm sure Winry thinks we've killed each other."

"More likely that I've killed you, I _am_ the alchemist of the family now," Al pointed out, straight-faced. "And I am bigger."

A familiar spark flared in Auric's eyes. "Are you calling me short?"


	4. Separation

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy.

* * *

_**Chapter 4: Separation **_

Auric stood leaning up against the fireplace, contemplating the stilted family tableau spread out before him. Granny Pinako was holding little Edwina, Winry was matching up the socks scattered on the coffee table, and Al was reading and watching his family. It looked like a peaceful enough scene to the casual eye. Someone more observant might notice the way Winry's lips were pressed tightly together, or the way Al was fidgeting with the book in his lap. Finally Granny Pinako stood, announcing frostily, "I'll put Edwina to bed."

The yelling started as soon as she left the sitting room.

"You cannot be serious," Winry snapped. "Ed would turn in his grave. Not that we ever got around to digging one."

"Ed is standing right there. And the General is _right_, we don't have a choice. If I wait until I'm drafted, there's no telling where I'll be sent," Al pointed out, trying to sound reasonable.

"_Auric_ is not Ed. And I'm sure he agrees with me anyhow! There's a reason his Guild didn't mix with the military, am I right?" Winry felt vaguely guilty seeing Al wince at the reminder, but she pressed her advantage. "Al…you can't volunteer to join the military. It's suicide. Apart from the politics, the war isn't going well, you know that – the number of State Alchemists has been dwindling and you know as well as I do they aren't retiring and going to some place warm! At least draftees can discharged after the war, and maybe they won't get around to you until later…."

"You heard the General, Winry," Al said tiredly. "I'm at the top of the draftee list, for obvious reasons."

"You're not that great!" argued Winry testily.

"I'm an Elric," was the soft response from her husband. "People remember Ed. It's as much a propaganda issue to raise morale as it is a genuine need for more alchemists. If you can't have the Fullmetal Alchemist, you can have his brother." Auric looked at Al with respect. He'd thought the pleasant young man too naïve to see the greater game being played. "But remember, I'm a grown man now, I can take care of myself. Brother was only a child when he joined, and he was fine."

"Because he had you to watch his back!"

"_And _the General. I'll be all right, Winry, he'll look out for me." Al's voice was coaxing, rational, and worst of all, _right_. But she didn't have to like it. She crossed her arms firmly and the two men could see the cogs in her mind working furiously on a comeback. "He can't be there all the time!"

Auric decided this might be an appropriate time to interrupt. "Winry…I'll watch his back."

The two of them looked around in confusion. "What?"

The blonde man chuckled. "Well, I'm useless here, aren't I? No memories, no real responsibilities, and I'm terrible at housework. I might as well go along with Al and make myself helpful – I am familiar with war, you know. And wasn't Granny Pinako saying something about familiar sights and sounds jogging memories? Seeing as how I seem to have spent a good deal of my formative years in Central City…."

Al spoke hesitantly. "Not to sound…rude, or anything, but you don't remember anything about alchemy, which makes you…sort of defenseless. And I don't know how we'd explain who you are."

"Well, to the latter…if your General Mustang is as powerful as he makes himself out to be, he'll figure something out. And as for the former…." Auric smiled wolfishly, an expression Al had seen on his brother's face before. It generally wasn't a good thing. "I'm still a Gatekeeper. We have our ways."

"Show me." Winry's eyes were torn between hope and suspicion.

"Certainly." And suddenly he wasn't there anymore. Winry jumped back, startled, only to bump into Auric, who had rematerialized behind her. "Hang on!" And he took hold of her shoulders lightly and she felt an odd feeling of being stretched and then she was looking at Al from across the room. She squeaked and Auric laughed behind her. "Sorry. It always feels that way. You get used to it if you do it often enough."

Al was wide-eyed. "Is that the teleportation you told me about? When you don't need a Gate?"

"Yeah. We can generally carry one other person with us. So you see, Winry, I'll be able to get Al out of any tight spots. And I promise to watch him very carefully."

"Why?" It was a sharp question that came from the entrance to the sitting room. Granny Pinako hobbled in and over to a surprised Auric. She tilted her head up to him and eyed him thoughtfully with bird-bright eyes. "You said yourself, you have no responsibilities here. And your Guild, what you've told us, doesn't seem to place much store in emotional ties. How can you, without memories?"

His mouth twisted, but he met her gaze steadily enough. "Fair point. But this isn't purely disinterested – I've always wanted to know about my past before I became a Gatekeeper. And it seems obvious part of my past is there, in the military. I'll be damned if I let those hidebound idiots keep myself from me. And you're wrong about the Guild…we do have emotional ties. To each other." He looked across at Al, and Al almost stopped breathing for a moment, because the look in Auric's eyes was just like the one Ed used to give him, that fiercely protective, reassuring I-will-hurt-anything-that-touches-my-brother glare that made him seem twice as tall. "I wasn't there to watch Alp, and he died. And I know why I couldn't be there, but that doesn't make it any easier. I will not lose him again. Does that answer your question?" He looked back down at the old lady.

She looked at him searchingly, then nodded, satisfied. Auric was startled when she abruptly reached up and pecked him on the cheek, a dry brushing of lips on skin. "Glad to see losing your memories hasn't warped your conscience, _Edward_. Well, I'll let you three finish the packing – you should get to bed soon if you're catching the first train, Al."

"Yes ma'am," murmured Al dazedly.

Auric stared after the formidable old lady, then shook himself mentally. "I won't have much to pack," he murmured wryly. "But Winry…might I trouble you for some help in sharpening and balancing a couple of things?"

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

With a smirk, he bent over and pulled two long daggers out of his knee-high boots. "These," and then there were the short blades concealed in his gauntlets, "and these too," and he headed over to his cloak hanging on a peg in the hallway and removed a handful of small metal stars, "mustn't forget those, and oh, oh, wait…" he bent over and pulled a little blade from the heel of his boot. "Yes, I think that's it." He gave her his best winning smile. "Self-defense, you know. They'll come in handy while I'm watching Al too."

Winry gaped. "You've had those on your person this whole time? With _Winnie_ around? And you never said anything?" Auric's grin faded as she began to advance on him threateningly.

Al bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Auric…you should probably run now.

* * *

They left the house at what Auric thought was an ungodly hour. His bones were still aching from the aftereffects of the Gate that had started this whole mess. No long-term damage done though, or so he hoped. It had been a subdued goodbye to the women of the household, Al lingering over little Edwina and promising her in barely audible tones that he would come back. Given the history of fathers leaving in the Elric family as told to him by Al, Auric could appreciate the concern on Winry's face as she stretched her face up for a goodbye kiss. He was mildly surprised when she pulled him down to her and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Be careful, Auric. Watch Al. And watch yourself." 

He smiled uncertaintly. "Who'd harm an innocent bystander?"

Winry's face had darkened and she'd tugged on his ponytail deliberately. "You're hardly unnoticeable, Auric. The legend of the Fullmetal Alchemist is still very much alive, and you…that is, Ed…well, you were never really the sort to worry about making enemies or remaining invisible."

"Good to know," Auric had replied flippantly. "It would have been terrible to realize I had been a wimp."

Now sitting at the train station, he was beginning to regret having said that. People seemed to be staring at him even though he was wrapped up in his green traveling cloak and he was starting to crave the anonymity he had had in his own world as a Gatekeeper. He huddled into its weather-beaten confines a little deeper and flipped his hood up. Al looked at him questioningly, and he indicated their watchers with a tilt of his head.

Al's face closed up and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Auric almost regretted letting the younger man in on his concerns, but he had to learn sometime or he really would wind up getting himself killed all too quickly in this pointless war. He could see the young man scanning the crowd with his peripheral vision. Another point to Al, he was a fast learner.

Finally Al leaned over. "I think they just find you attractive. There aren't that many good looking young men in town."

Auric began to give serious thought to teleporting the snickering young man into a wall.

* * *

Captain Hawkeye cast a considering eye over the wall clock. She had suggested sending a car to pick up Alphonse Elric at the station, but he had insisted that he could make his own way to Central Command. If he had made his train, he should be arriving shortly. She walked over to her CO's office and rapped smartly before poking her head in. "Sir? You asked me to give you a heads-up on Alphonse's ETA. Probably another fifteen minutes."

Mustang nodded distractedly. "Good. Show him in when he gets here." He was holding the photograph that normally sat on the corner of his desk, and an open drawer seemed to be its next resting place.

"Of course, sir." She closed the door silently behind her before letting the mask of bright efficiency drop from her face as she put a hand over her mouth for a moment. She knew very well who the subject of the photograph was. She had given it to him.

It had been the Valentine's Day of the year after Alphonse had returned and Edward had…had left. War or no war, love – or lust, as the case might be – was still in the air, and everyone in the office was making plans. Except for their CO. Which was very odd, given his reputation as a ladies' man. Even Havoc, who was normally concerned about Mustang stealing his intended's attentions, was getting worried. So she'd mentioned it to him. Casually. In passing. With the door firmly shut.

"Everyone's talking about it, sir."

"Would 'everyone' include you, Captain?" he had drawled, looking up from the report he was reading.

"No, sir. But sir…permission to speak freely?"

"Have you ever not?"

"No, sir. Sir…your subordinates are concerned about you. You've shut yourself up ever since the…incident with Fullmetal and his brother, and it's not healthy. We all miss Edward, sir, but you're letting it get to you and it could begin to impair your performance. You're under a lot of stress, sir, you need to learn to relax."

"Hawkeye," his voice had held a warning note, "you're starting to sound like my mother."

"Sir, yes, sir. Look sir…Roy…at least take yourself out to dinner and company once in a while and get your mind off things. There are plenty of lovely women out there who would be happy to have you escort them to dinner on Valentine's Day."

She had tried not to flinch under his dark gaze. "Captain…are you propositioning me?"

"Sir…." He had stood up and walked towards her then, steady, measured paces, circling her as she stood at attention in the middle of the carpet. She could feel the heat of his hand as he stood behind her and reached for the pins that held her hair up, gently tugging them out to let her fine blonde hair tumble down over her shoulders. He ran his fingers through her hair.

"You have very pretty hair, Captain," he said in a conversational tone of voice. "It becomes you." She crimsoned furiously, struggling to keep her face neutral and thankful that he couldn't see her face from his vantage point behind her. He continued to card his fingers through her hair. "He had beautiful hair too. Pure gold. Like his eyes."

She sucked in a mouthful of air as understanding came crashing down into the pit of her stomach. He stepped away, back to his desk where he seated himself with the languid grace that marked all his movements. "Please listen carefully, Captain, because I will only say this once. And this goes no further than this room."

"I am touched by everyone's concern. I genuinely appreciate it. And please assure Havoc that his harem of playmates is still not safe from myself. I am an adult, I do realize that certain needs need to be taken of, and my reputation, I trust, is evidence that I do so."

"But Valentine's Day is a day for lovers. I do not intend to cheapen the intent of the occasion with a fling whose name I will not remember come morning." His eyes were clouded now, although his expression never changed. "Nor will I make use of a friend, no matter how willing she may be, knowing that I cannot give her what she wants."

She had said the only thing that came to mind. "Edward is dead, sir."

"And I never told him. And what never had a beginning…cannot have an end, can it, Captain?" He had stood briskly then. "I'm going to get a fresh cup of coffee. I'll be back in five minutes. Would you mind filing those reports on my desk while I'm out?" And he had closed the door on her, letting her recover her dignity in the privacy of his office.

The next day, she had brought him the photograph. Colonel Hughes had taken it a couple of years ago while fooling around in the office with a new camera. In the picture, Edward Elric was smiling as he looked up from a book. He was seated on a window-sill of the library, and the wind was ruffling loose strands of hair that had escaped the confines of his heavy braid. Alphonse was likely standing next to Hughes at the time, because Edward's eyes held that soft, warm look reserved for those closest to him. The contrast of light and shadow on his face was striking, and Hughes had murmured, "One of the best pictures I've ever taken, outside of Alicia's photos, of course. Damn, but if you can't see the man peeking out from the child's face. He's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up."

Of course, the truth of the matter would never be known since Edward Elric would never grow up now.

She had left it on her CO's desk later that night in a simple gold frame with a note. "Happy Valentine's Day."

The next time she saw it, it was sitting on the corner of his desk facing him. He had looked up at her and nodded, and she had inclined her head. No words were necessary between friends.

But it still hurt. A lot.


	5. Reunion

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy.

* * *

_**Chapter 5: Reunion **_

Alphonse cast a worried eye on the man walking silently beside him. Auric seemed preoccupied with something he was turning over in his mind. Was it something he had said on the train? They had talked to pass the time, and Al had found himself going into more detail on their adventures, and on Ed's ability to perform alchemy without a transmutation circle, and on the knowledge the Gate of Truth bestowed – at a price, of course. Auric had had lapsed into monosyllables shortly thereafter. Professional interest in the Gate of Truth as a Gatekeeper?

"Auric?" No response. "Auric?" he nudged.

"What? Oh, sorry. Just thinking, nothing to worry about." Auric smiled blandly, but his eyes glittered. Al had noticed that Auric's eyes were rarely still, except when he was really listening to you or wanted you to listen to him. The rest of the time they were always shifting, near, then far, left to right, a full sweep, cataloging his surroundings. Ed had never been that way, but then, he supposed, Ed had never really worried about his surroundings, being of the mind that he could charge in where angels feared to tread. His brother had not lacked for confidence in his powers.

Al frowned. When had he started thinking of Ed as independent from Auric? He didn't really want to think too hard about that, or about the sort of life that gave you Auric's eyes, so he addressed himself to the latter again. "What are you thinking about?"

"Various things. Including the fact that those men up there aren't really soldiers," Auric said pleasantly. Al twitched but managed to arrest the urge to spin around and start rubbernecking wildly in all directions. He finally let his head turn casually as if surveying the city in awe, as most rural residents did, and saw the group Auric had indicated strolling up ahead. They looked normal enough, all spit-and-polish uniforms and boots.

"Are you sure? They look pretty regular to me," Al questioned dubiously.

The golden-eyed man had already pulled his hood up and was leading Al deep into the main throng of the crowd. "Those uniforms are too new for their ranks. The ribbons make them career military and the medals indicate they've seen combat, but there are no signs of wear on their boots or holsters. No real soldier fails to break in his gear before using it, even if it's just been issued."

"Maybe they're transfers to Administrative Branch? We are in Central Command."

"Doesn't matter, old habits die hard. Keeps you alive," muttered Auric. "Bet you your General Mustang still checks his own gear. And look at the lines of their jackets - they're carrying concealed weapons in addition to their regular sidearms. Those weapons are top of the line, if your world is anything like mine. Believe me, the military doesn't get the best stuff, especially in wartime." He slipped through the crowd with a practiced ease that reminded Al forcibly that one of the Guild's specialties was spying. "Come on."

Al repressed a sigh and followed. Once Auric was set on something, there appeared to be no dissuading him of it. Just like Ed.

* * *

"He should have been here by now," Hawkeye fretted.

Havoc looked over. "Eh, Al's a pretty good alchemist, just like the boss was. I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"Al's more…peace-loving though," said Fury hesitantly.

A silence descended on the office. It was broken when General Mustang's door opened. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose as if to ease a tension headache. The office scrambled to its feet. "At ease, I'm just passing through. Al's not here yet?"

"No, sir."

"Well. He probably took the scenic route," sighed the General. "Hawkeye, I'm going to take a short walk to clear my head. And please suggest to Major Lee that he requisition a dictionary from the quartermaster, I'm starting to feel like a grammar teacher. Can that new pile of thrilling mission reports I see on your desk wait until I get back?"

Hawkeye tipped her head back thoughtfully. "Twenty minutes, General. And don't you go taking a scenic route either." She deliberately unholstered her gun and laid it on the table ostentatiously within reach. "I just got recertified."

The General rolled his eyes. "Understood, Captain."

"And you _do_ have your gloves with you?" That last earned her a sharp look. "Sir, you know there are a good number of people who want you d…."

She was cut off as he swept out the door. "It's a trial being irresistible!" was the smug reply that floated back to them.

Havoc huffed, and made a note to himself not to meet his date at the office tonight. Or at least, not until his CO had left. Hawkeye gave him a Look, and he rose reluctantly, shuffling off after his CO. They made it a habit to tail him, just in case. Of course, he wasn't supposed to know about it.

* * *

Their quarry was a man of habit. They knew what time he rose, what time the military car would be by to pick him up for the drive to his office, and how he liked his morning coffee (black). He rarely had lunch outside his office unless he was headed to a lunch meeting. He didn't take tea. He rarely left the office before 8 in the evening, unless he had a social obligation. The latter being increasingly rare during this time of war.

They also knew he typically took a walk in the late morning as the first cup of coffee began to wear off. That was what they were counting on.

* * *

Roy Mustang took a deep breath and sighed. He remembered a time when the air in Central City didn't smell of smoke, and dust, and general depression. Of course, he had been much younger then. They all had. Funny what a few years could do to you.

Still, the walk was pleasant enough. The habit had started when they had run out of coffee one day before he had had his second cup. After Hawkeye had restrained him from singeing the hapless petty officer in charge of stores, he had stomped out to the nearest café to find some. It had been a surprisingly beautiful day, and on the way back from the café he had realized that it was more the physical activity of the walk that was waking him up rather than the coffee. And being an organized man, Roy Mustang had incorporated a daily walk into his schedule then and there.

Hawkeye was right of course, it did leave him vulnerable. But he was still the Flame Alchemist, and the hands buried in his coat pockets were gloved. He would be fine. Not a cloud in the sky. And anyway, he knew one of his staff would be following him, watching his back. Not that he ever let them know he knew, of course. He paused at a corner, then turned deliberately in the direction of the train station.

He had to admit he had an ulterior motive for walking this way. He was hoping to run into Alphonse Elric. The Elrics were punctilious about sending him holiday cards, generally with an updated family photo tucked into the envelope, so he was pretty sure he would recognize Alphonse, even though the boy had grown into a man. Taller and a little broader than Edward would have been, rounder of face like the old pictures he had seen of Trisha Elric, Alphonse was Earth where Edward had been Metal. He wondered idly if little Edwina would be like her father or her uncle.

Lost in thought, he nearly bumped into a soldier sauntering by. That in and of itself was odd, given that most soldiers gave officers a wide berth, especially well-known, conspicuous Major-Generals-who-were-also-State-Alchemists. Stranger yet that the man wasn't apologizing for the near miss, but was instead bringing out a hand from under his coat. Roy's fingers twitched in his pocket and suddenly his hands were free, having simply burned their way out of his coat as expediency won out over the thought of ruining yet another uniform. The man grinned – and dove neatly out of the way as a bucket of water came splashing down from a window above onto Roy, followed shortly by the bucket. Roy managed to avoid the latter, but the former had soaked his gloves thoroughly. Grimacing in disgust at his own carelessness, the General stripped off his gloves even as he ducked and rolled behind the cover of a delivery cart.

There were at least four of them that he could see, he realized, sizing up the situation. He hoped it was Hawkeye's turn to follow him; she would easily dispatch at least two of them, or possibly the lot, depending on how annoyed she was about the delay on the reports. Pedestrians were screaming and diving for cover as his would-be assassins opened fire with…crap, they were using air guns. No sparks for him to utilize. These guys were prepared, which, he supposed, was vaguely flattering, but not terribly helpful right at this instant. Now, where was the chalk he knew he kept on him? The dry cleaners were always on him about the mess it made in his pockets.

"General!" came a horrified voice behind him. He turned in surprise as a sandy-haired young man flung himself to the ground next to him in hail of splinters.

"Alphonse! What are you doing?"

"Um…reporting for duty?" he offered up meekly, eyes widening as he peered around their rapidly disintegrating cover. "Four, right?"

"I believe so."

Alphonse smiled, looking a great deal like another Elric for a moment. "That's it? Okay, here goes," and he placed his hands together, then touched them lightly to the ground. Roy smiled inwardly – the younger of the Elric brothers had never quite taken to the theatricality of Fullmetal's technique. He could feel the thrum of alchemic energy rushing through the earth, followed by choked cries. The pair stood, dusting themselves off, and strolled out to view Alphonse's handiwork. Roy put a hand to his chin, considering.

"Not bad."

"An Elric aims to please."

Roy laughed. "I doubt your brother would have agreed with that. Good to see you, Alphonse. You've been missed." The younger man ducked his head bashfully as Havoc came running around the corner.

"What was that? General! Are you all right?" He started wild-eyed at the stone hands restraining the swearing attackers, then started to wring his hands as Roy and Alphonse watched in fascination. "Oh, the Captain's gonna _kill_ me for sure, I was supposed to be watching your back, that girl must have been a deliberate distraction…."

Roy raised a daunting eyebrow. He was opening his mouth when Havoc yelped and reached for his gun. "Shit! General, get down!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of movement and recognized the glint of sunlight on a gun-barrel.

So it had been five after all. He shut his eyes and hoped the shooter wasn't a crack marksman. Al was starting to bring his hands together, but he knew there wasn't time.

However, instead of the shot he expected to hear - and for that matter, feel – he heard a whisper like a blade cutting through the air and a choked cry. His eyes snapped open, and he gaped as a crimson splash bloomed in the shooter's forehead. As the man fell, a flash of sunlight glinted off the metal star that had buried itself between his brows. No one moved for a moment. Then an amused voice broke the hush. "You've got quite the fan club, eh, Mustang?"

Roy started. That hoarse voice had sounded…familiar.

A hooded figure jumped down from its perch on a drainpipe two stories up, landing lightly next to Alphonse, who turned but didn't seem surprised. "Auric…" the young man said, a note of warning in his voice, "You haven't exactly been…properly introduced to the _General_ yet."

"What can I say," replied Roy smoothly, recovering. "It's a burden being so popular sometimes. And you've got a good arm."

Alphonse choked at that, for some reason. The mystery man shrugged under his weather-stained cloak. "You have no idea. I must be more tired than I thought though."

"And why is that?" Roy took the bait to see where this would lead.

"One: I just saved your ass without negotiating a signed contract. And two: I was aiming for his throat." Al was staring at him now, Auric knew, but he didn't want to meet those grey eyes. He knew what he would see. Shock, and hurt, and horror that Auric had just killed, easily and without hesitation.

It had taken a while for Auric to become comfortable with that himself.

"Who are you? Alphonse, how do you know him?" Roy finally asked, a cold edge in his voice. Havoc had come up to stand behind Roy's shoulder now, scowling at this unknown element in the equation.

Alphonse sighed. "Um…well…you see…."

A gentle hand on his sleeve stopped him. "Should we be doing this in the street?" drawled the stranger.

Havoc growled. "Got something to hide?"

The voice remained unnervingly collected, but there was a definite hint of irritation bleeding through now. "Everyone has something to hide, Lieutenant whoever-you-are. And…hang on, are you calling me _short_?"

Havoc nearly swallowed his cigarette. Roy paled. That leap of illogic could only be associated with one person. Alphonse winced. "Auric, please…." It seemed that whatever world he was in, Edward Elric would always have height issues.

"Fine, but I hope you know you're ruining my reputation for spycraft," was the testy grumble as Auric pushed back his hood and tossed his head, freeing his long ponytail from its confines. The sunlight shone off his hair, turning it to beaten gold as irritated tiger-yellow eyes met Roy's disbelieving stare head-on. "There, happy now?"


	6. Tango de Salon I

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Comment:

A huge THANK YOU to all the lovely reviewers who keep me going with everything from detailed comments to excited squealing – I draw inspiration from all of you! I'm absolutely amazed (and humbled) by the hit rate in just 5 days, and I'm glad you like the story enough to want to know what happens next. Unfortunately, I juggle studies, a job and writing, so while I do try to be disciplined about updating, I thank you for your understanding if I find it necessary to fall behind at times. Keep on reading **_and reviewing _**and I'll keep on writing – equivalent exchange, as our favorite alchemists would say….

Some of you have emailed to ask about where this is going, or whether Auric will ever get his memories back, or whether he'll start practicing alchemy. The answer is…I don't actually know! The characters do their own thing in their own time (Auric especially) and I'm just the scribe. This story is already running much longer than I thought it would - I guess we'll find out together!

_For an explaination of the chapter title/section headings, please see the end of the document._

* * *

**_Chapter 6: Tango de Salon(I)_**

_**I. Salida**_

The stunning vision with the prickly demeanor standing before him, Roy Mustang decided dazedly, was undoubtedly another instance of his reputation for always being right returning to bite him in a certain delicate part of his anatomy. Edward Elric really had come back from whatever afterlife he had been occupying to kill him for trying to co-opt his little brother into the military. One half of his brain was advising him to flee with all haste, and dignity be damned, because the wrath of the older Elric knew no bounds when it came to protecting Alphonse. The other half was occupied with cataloging the changes that four years had wrought on the young man currently eyeing him irritably.

Taller, if still a hair's breadth below what would have been average height for anyone else. Broader, especially about the chest and shoulders judging from the way the cloak was hanging, but still trim and built along longer, leaner lines than Alphonse's rugged frame. Hair the same shade of wheat-gold, now streaked lightly from the sun and worn in a long, low ponytail. Thinner of face, making those startling eyes stand out all the more, and as for those eyes…well…Roy wasn't certain what to make of them. They were guarded, with a wariness that betrayed itself in the faint lines that radiated outwards from their corners, and in the distant, measuring look that met his gaze squarely. What had they seen in the four years they had been elsewhere? Well, two could play at that game, and he always had outpaced Edward in the patience sweepstakes. He put on his best inscrutably smiling face – the one Edward had used to call "Colonel Bastard" – and waited for an explanation.

And waited.

And waited some more. Al and Havoc looked back and forth between the pair in some confusion. Havoc finally nudged Al. "I don't think either of them is going to want to back down first," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his half-bitten and long-forgotten cigarette drooping at a cockeyed angle. "The General can be just as stubborn as the boss, you know."

Al rolled his eyes, a habit he had fallen back into quite quickly since Auric's arrival. Stepping forward, he ventured mildly, "Should we….maybe continue this inside? I'm sure Captain Hawkeye is waiting for us."

"Indeed. Excellent idea," agreed Roy, his gaze not wavering. "After you?"

"Oh, no, I insist," came the sardonic reply. "You outrank everyone here, after all." The image of Edward gestured politely with an arm, and Roy stiffened. Forgetting this contest of wills, he reached out and snatched at its right hand, running his fingers over it in wonder. It was callused, and warm, and undeniably flesh, as was the rest of the arm it was attached to. "Do you mind?" snapped the owner of said arm, yanking it away. "It's a little forward, considering we haven't even had a first date yet, don't you think?"

Roy stepped back, stunned. "How?" was the only thing he could think of to ask.

A shrug. "You'd have to ask the alchemist here," and he jerked his thumb over at Al. "I'm no expert at these things."

And that was when it registered. "You aren't Edward. You aren't Fullmetal." He determinedly ignored the ache inside his chest that was swallowing up the little flame of hope he had allowed himself for an instant, but was nearly undone when those golden eyes that flicked up to meet his gaze. They were almost apologetic.

"Not…exactly."

Havoc was starting to think that he should definitely have made Fury take this shift instead.

* * *

_**II. Caminada**_

"This is…really bad coffee," said Auric, making a face at the mug sitting on his chest as he lay sprawled on the couch in Roy's office, legs dangling off one arm. "Can't the military afford a better brew?" Al gave him a long-suffering look and he sighed. "Fine, fine, I'll be quiet over here, don't mind me. And no, Colonel, I am not going to look at those photos of your daughter again!" That last was successfully preemptive as Maes Hughes sat back in his chair with a huff.

Al turned back to the General, who was rubbing his temples as if to try and erase the memory of what Al had just explained. "So. To recap – Maes, are you getting all this?" The burly Colonel nodded. "It was the anniversary of Fullmetal's disappearance and your return. You found him in the ruins of your childhood home. He has no memory of his life or identity here. You're here with him because Winry wouldn't let you come otherwise."

Al considered. "Yes. Oh, and don't forget the bit about his name being Auric and his abilities as a Gatekeeper."

There was a groan from the depths of the couch. "Al, I trust you, but do you have to lay _all_ my secrets out for the world to know?"

"I trust General Mustang and Colonel Hughes, Auric," said Al softly. "They need to know the entire story in order to help us, especially if it's going to involve concealing parts of the truth. You know that." He looked across the room to his brother-who-was-not-his brother. It did not escape the two officers that Auric's eyes softened momentarily as they met Al's. A silent conversation appeared to take place, and then the golden-haired man finally sat up and set his coffee mug down on a side-table. Staring at his feet, he took a deep breath, and when he looked up again the mocking glint was gone from his eyes and his face had settled into an attitude of keen attention. Ed used to get that look whenever he had committed to a course of action and was determined to see it play out, regardless of the consequences, thought Roy bleakly.

"What else do you need to know?"

* * *

Riza Hawkeye knew she should be focusing on the pile of paperwork on her desk. There were schedules and requisition forms to fill out, training exercises to plan, logistical exercises in moving men and supplies, and all the other nitty-gritty of conducting a war contained in the stack of brown folders in her inbox. 

Oh, who was she kidding, no one in the office could concentrate. First there had been the news of yet another attempted assassination of the Flame Alchemist. And then said target had come storming into his office, grim-faced and intent, dragging Colonel Hughes, Alphonse Elric and an unidentified figure in a hooded green cloak along in his wake. Alphonse had at least had the good manners to mouth a silent apology in her direction before the General had slammed the door shut with unnecessary force. She had marched over to the door and rapped determinedly, only to have her CO open it and glare at her. "No interruptions, Captain. None. Is that clear?"

"What if it's the Fuhrer, sir?" she had asked, blandly.

"Then give him my sincerest compliments – and _take a message_." And the door had shut in her face again, but not before she caught a glint of gold hair as the mysterious stranger pushed back his-or-her hood.

A clatter of boot heels scraping against the doorframe broke into her reverie and she looked up to see Jean Havoc stagger in and fall gratefully into his chair. "Crap, that was weird. I really need a cigarette. Make that a whole pack." He scrabbled around in the pockets of the jacket hanging on the back of his chair, then looked up to find himself staring down the barrel of Hawkeye's gun. "Oh, for the love of…come on, Captain, the General specifically ordered me not to say anything!"

She thumbed the hammer back. "Start talking."

* * *

"And how do you think you got here again?" asked Roy wearily. He reached blindly for the mug of coffee on his desk, hesitated when he realized it had long since reached room temperature, briefly considered snapping his fingers to heat it up, then decided it wasn't worth the effort and poured it down his throat. Hell, he was only drinking it for the caffeine anyway. 

"I already told you, I. Don't. Know." Auric stood and began to pace. "I don't know what I was hoping to achieve by connecting the two ends of the Gate, I just wanted to contain the effects of the backlash…I just wanted to save all those people. So Alp's death would have a _purpose_. I certainly didn't expect to wind up here, and to stumble across my identity from pre-Aleph."

"What?"

Auric ran a hand through his hair again, making it even more of a mess as random strands pulled loose from his ponytail. Realizing this, he made a frustrated sound in his throat and shook his hair free of the leather tie, allowing the heavy fall of gold to cascade down his back, stifling a sigh of relief at the release of tension. "Pre-Aleph. It's the life a Gatekeeper had before he lost his memories. The day it happens is your Aleph Day. Aleph – the beginning."

Maes frowned. "This Alp, Alphonse's double. You said he had been a Gatekeeper longer than you, right?" Auric nodded tiredly, scrubbing his eye-sockets with the heels of his hands. It all seemed so far away and long ago. How long had it been since his Aleph Day? He had been out for two days, according to Alphonse, and then a day up and about dealing with all the revelations of this new world, and then they had come to Central City…four days? That was it? He stifled a yawn, and rubbed at his chest as a momentary twinge of pain made itself felt. Oh, for a bed and some rest. Oblivion sounded like just the ticket.

"Auric," said Al softly. He realized he had just missed something Maes had asked.

"I'm sorry. Just so damn tired. What was that?"

"How much longer had Alp been a Gatekeeper?" Maes was doodling on his notepad.

"Oh…um…maybe four years?" Auric was starting to feel dizzy. Roy and Maes exchanged significant looks.

"That would have been eight years ago. Coinciding with…."

Al was already following Maes's line of reasoning. "When I lost my body. I died…or at least, I would have if Brother hadn't sacrificed his right arm to bind me to that armor with the blood seal." He frowned. "So there's definitely some kind of connection between Auric's ability to manipulate Gates and the Gate of Truth. But what?"

"Hey, imagine that," slurred Auric dully. For some reason the thought struck him as funny, and he began to giggle, ignoring the looks of alarm on the other men's faces. "Gates everywhere I go…hey, did'ja know, I told Winry I'd give up my right arm to remember Al and everyone…she got all mad at me…don't know why though, I'd done it once before, right?" He giggled again light-headedly, and suddenly doubled over coughing. He could taste blood in his mouth as his legs gave way.

"Auric!" Al rushed towards the huddled mass on the floor, but Roy beat him to it and was already scooping Auric into his arms. The blonde man was surprisingly light for his size, and it became obvious as his cloak fell back that his collarbones were entirely too prominent to be healthy. Auric struggled briefly against Roy's hold in embarrassment, then gave up, turning his head away from Roy towards Al in an attempt to reassure the younger man.

"I'm all right, Al, don't worry. Just tired. Told you that early train would be the death of me."

"Mere fatigue doesn't make you cough up blood," reproved Roy in an acerbic tone of voice, causing Maes to shoot him a sharp look. The dark-haired man deposited Auric neatly onto the couch and flicked a couple of cushions under his head for support. "How long has this been happening?"

Auric glared, but didn't bother to dispute the observation. The General had sharp eyes. The pain in his chest slowly ebbed as he took a couple of deep experimental breaths. "Comes and goes. Since the last Gate. It's nothing though – judging from the color, I'm no longer bleeding, which means this should be the last of it. Occupational hazard." He did his best to sound blasé, but he could see that Al was not yet entirely convinced. "It's a common ailment among Gatekeepers after expending a lot of energy on a Gate, Al. I'll be fine after some rest." Al finally nodded and Auric closed his eyes in relief.

"General," Maes interjected smoothly. "Perhaps we should allow our guest to rest. I'm sure Captain Hawkeye is champing at the bit to get Alphonse Elric processed, after all, as a volunteer, he'll need to take his State Alchemist certifications, and we need to get him his military papers. I really should go and check on Major Armstrong's progress with interrogating the prisoners as well."

"I wouldn't bother with that last bit," mumbled Auric, eyes still firmly shut as he slid further down into the cushions. Maes eyed him thoughtfully.

Roy regarded the supine figure judiciously. "Oh? You doubt Major Armstrong's abilities as an interrogator?"

"Don't know the guy, so I can't say." Auric stifled a yawn. "Sorry. But it's obvious those guys who were after you weren't regular military. And they weren't crazies with a grudge – too well organized. So they're either pros or some kind of paramilitary secret service, and I'm betting on the latter. In which case, they're probably already dead by their own hand, and unless Armstrong specializes in raising the dead – which is, apparently, forbidden and the whole reason I got in trouble pre-Aleph in the first place - you're not getting anything out of them. You've got some powerful enemies, Mustang. But you already knew that, didn't you?" Auric snuggled deeper into the couch, wrapping his cloak around him. "Now if you're done with your little reasoning tests, I'd really like to get some shut-eye."

Maes shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "If you're sticking around, Auric, you might consider coming to work for Investigations in Military Intelligence. You've certainly got the aptitude for it."

"No offense, but MI is an oxymoron," replied Auric without opening his eyes, although the smile playing about his lips removed much of the sting. "You're the one who should consider a change of careers, Maes. You're too perceptive to be a watch dog of the military."

"Ah, but that's an incomplete assessment. Really, Auric, I'm disappointed," teased Maes, although his eyes were serious. "I may be a watch dog, but the correct question is, who is my real master?"

"Maes…" Roy's voice held a note of warning.

"Yes, General." Hughes turned and headed for the door. "Come on, Alphonse, let's see if we can't get you kitted out, eh?"

Al hesitated, looking back at Auric with a troubled expression. "Auric…." Brother, Roy seemed to hear a younger voice echo hollowly.

With an effort, Auric opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at Al. "I'll be here when you're done, Al. I promise. That is, if the great General Mustang doesn't mind me taking up his couch for the next few hours?"

Roy twitched. "Just don't bleed on it. I'd rather send you to the infirmary to be checked out, but it would arouse too many questions. Go with Hughes to see Captain Hawkeye, Alphonse. Tell her I'm assigning you your old quarters and to expedite the paperwork as she sees fit on the rest of your application. Fullm…Auric should stay here until I can work out a cover story for him. But I'll find a way to get him assigned to your bunk ASAP." And I'll keep an eye on him, his look said.

The gratitude in Al's eyes was all the thanks he required. "Yes, sir. Get some rest, Auric, I'll see you later, all right?"

"Mm. Don't forget to call Winry," Auric mumbled as Al closed the door to the office silently. He rolled over and curled up, his hair tumbling over his face as he burrowed his head into the cushions. His breathing evened out as he relaxed, and the last thing his conscious mind registered in faint surprise before he slipped gratefully into blessed darkness was a warm, dry hand that smelled like clean flame gently brushing back his bangs as a gentle kiss was pressed to his temple.

* * *

_**Tango de Salon**: A way of dancing tango characterized by slow measured moves, with the emphasis on precision and elegance. The dancing couple remains at a "proper" distance from each other, i.e., their bodies are not in a close embrace. _

_Though it means "exit," the **salida** marks the beginning of the dance or movement, and is derived from "Salimos a bailar?" or the invitation, "Shall we (go out to the dance floor and) dance?"_

_The leader leads the follower in the **caminada**, or "tango walk" to the cross-step, known as cruzada or trabada._


	7. Tango de Salon II

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

_For an explanation of the chapter title/section headings, please see the end of the chapter.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 7: Tango de Salon II_**

_**III. Trabada**_

Riza Hawkeye looked up in relief as her CO finally emerged from his office. Fury and Havoc had long since left the office to get very, very drunk. Fortunately, as with most of Mustang's staff, alcohol had the atypical effect of making them very tight-lipped, especially regarding the General. Which was quite possibly the reason she had encouraged their intentions.

"I've processed most of Alphonse Elric's paperwork, sir," she informed him gravely. He looked over in surprise, having only just noticed she was still there. Exhaustion lurked in the dark shadows under his eyes and in the thin set line of his mouth. "I managed to put together an examining board as well, for tomorrow morning. Alphonse says he'll be ready. But with his skills, it should be a pure formality." A corner of her mouth quirked up. "It will be odd to have to salute him after tomorrow. Not that Alphonse would ever dream of pulling rank – he's very much like Edward in that way. He wanted to see his brother before turning in, but I persuaded him to go get some rest."

"Thank you, Captain." Her CO raised an eyebrow tiredly. "I assume that Colonel Hughes and Alphonse filled you in as to the status of our…guest?"

"What they didn't fill me in on, Lieutenant Havoc did, sir," she assured, her hand dropping meaningfully to the butt of her gun. He smiled faintly, but didn't ask her to elaborate. "Oh, and Colonel Hughes said to tell you, 'The kid was right on the money,' about your would-be assassins, sir. Poison when the guards changed shifts. It would seem matters are coming to a head." She hesitated. "Sir…not that getting him back isn't wonderful…but the timing complicates matters. Especially if he doesn't remember who he is…was."

Roy nodded distractedly. "I know." He looked away, his shoulders sagging fractionally. She almost reached for his arm, but stopped herself in time as he returned his gaze to her. "I'm going to swing by my rooms to hit the shower and get a change of clothes, Captain. I know it's late, but will you stay and keep an eye on him until I return?"

She was opening her mouth to assent when a sleep-roughened voice interrupted her. "If that's a hot shower, I'm coming with you." Auric stood silhouetted in the doorway, leaning up against the door frame as he rubbed sleep-darkened eyes. The low light from Roy's desk lamp behind him lit up the frizzy halo of sleep-mussed hair rather fetchingly, thought Riza in amazement, feeling a slow burn rise in her cheeks as her mind struggled to make the leap between the boy she remembered and the very attractive man standing before her. She tore her eyes away and looked over at her CO just in time to catch an odd look flit over his face before a more familiar mask slid over his features.

"Why Auric, I had no idea you were interested," purred Roy. "I'm flattered, but don't you think it's a bit…_forward_, considering we haven't even had a first date yet? And it might not be a good idea to…physically exert yourself in your current condition." Riza closed her eyes and braced for the explosion from the volatile blonde. Some things just never changed….

It never came.

Instead Auric smiled, a slow, lazy smile that curled up the corners of his lips in an almost predatory manner. His eyes swept deliberately over the General's figure as if taking an inventory of the man's physique, lingering mockingly over areas that made Riza blush further, mortified. When he finally responded, it was in a husky baritone that made her toes curl. "Don't worry, old man. I'll take it easy on you. At least, initially. And if you still think you can handle me after that…" he let the sentence trail off suggestively.

Riza gaped as Auric sauntered slowly past her desk and out the door. She started at her CO, who was looking equally stunned. Then their gazes met, and she shook her head slowly. "Don't worry, sir…this…um…never happened." He nodded equally slowly.

"Well, come on," sighed Auric, suddenly sticking his head back into the room. "I really want that shower. And some food. And then I really need more sack time. Joint – if you're really up for it - or otherwise." His eyes twinkled maliciously.

Roy bit back a comment at the gibe and followed in silence. Riza shook her head again. Some things just never changed…and, she realized, some things really had.

He wasn't a child anymore.

* * *

**_IV. Resolución_**

"I'd be careful with that," Auric said softly from the door. Roy started. He had been fingering one of the daggers carefully laid out on the narrow bunk Auric had appropriated. Despite Roy's rank, he preferred to keep his rooms at HQ fairly Spartan. Standard issue bunk beds against the wall, a cluttered writing desk, a closet and a chest-of-drawers. The only evidence of seniority and a concession to creature comforts was the small attached kitchen with a couple of gas rings, and the tiny sitting area with a couple of armchairs about the hearth. He used the showers down the hall, which were nominally available to all officers, but was in practice a private bathroom of sorts since most officers preferred to give the notorious Flame Alchemist a wide berth. Even though he hadn't technically done anything recently…well, there had been that one annoying Lieutenant Colonel who had leered at him once too often, but that had been a while ago! And the man's moustache had grown back. Eventually.

Auric padded into the room, still wringing out his hair vigorously. "Some people keep the middle prong on their sais round, but I prefer an octagonal cross-section even if it does chip easily. More damage on impact," he added clinically. "But the edges and tips are sharp, so don't cut yourself. It might prevent you from snapping your fingers, and I have neither the time nor the desire to be traipsing about after you watching your hide."

Roy laid the sai back down next to the other two. "Why three?" he asked interestedly. While he was quite confident in his ability to defend himself, he had to admit that the overwhelming focus on honing his alchemic abilities had meant that he had not been able to spend as much time on the martial arts. His first CO had grunted, "If they get that close to you, Mustang, you've slipped up and probably deserve what's coming to you," but he still found the practice interesting.

"One for throwing, two for hand-to-hand," replied Auric, his face emerging from the depths of an army green towel. Without being prompted, he hefted one of the sais, tossed it lightly in his hand and sent it sailing towards the wood of the doorframe, where it embedded itself obligingly. "Very useful defensive weapons. Alp preferred the bo, but have you ever tried concealing that on your person?" He snorted as he slipped a borrowed crew-necked shirt of Mustang's over his head.

"Can't say that I have," Roy slipped off the bunk. "Would you like something to eat? I have soup and something the military says is chicken, and something else they say is beef."

Auric shrugged. "Soup's fine. Thanks."

Roy rummaged about for the can-opener and went about heating up the soup. Auric watched him through half-lidded eyes. Finally, the blonde man spoke. "You're wondering how I can discuss this all so casually when Ed never would have, aren't you?"

"Now that you mention it, yes," Roy concentrated on pouring the soup into the two chipped mugs he had set out. "Your attitude towards fighting and killing and death certainly is different."

"This coming from the man known as one of the 'heroes' of the Ishvar civil war? Al and Winry told me what you did."

Roy's head snapped up, and his eyes were glittering and deathly cold. "I was under orders. And I…regret many of the things I had to do."

"There's your answer," was the reply. "Duty and survival are powerful motivators. I did what I had to do to fulfill my responsibilities to the Guild as a Gatekeeper." The two men locked gazes in a clash of tempers and wills, but then Auric chuckled ruefully and looked away. "I'll let you win this one, since I won our last round. Besides, that was a cheap shot. I'm sorry."

His opponent blinked. "Do you know, I believe that's the first time you've ever said that to me?"

Auric raised an eyebrow as he accepted a mug of soup. "Well, you haven't known me very long. I can't speak for Ed. But I am older than he was, and doesn't maturity come with age? Not that it's showing in your case, of course," and he nimbly dodged a lick of flame from the gas stove. "Hey, no using alchemy! You don't see me teleporting all over the place, do you?"

Roy smirked, tossing his glove aside, and dropped down lightly into the other armchair. For a while they sat there companionably sipping from their mugs. The flames from the fireplace were dying down before the taller of the two broke the silence. "Why haven't you tried alchemy yet?"

"Don't need to." The answer was terse.

"Oh?"

"It won't work." Auric snapped his mouth shut and refused to look at Roy. His body was suddenly tense, as if to flee.

"Alphonse says you won't even look at an array. So how do you know it won't?"

"It just won't. I don't remember anything about my life here, so why should it?"

Roy's eyes narrowed. "First of all, alchemic ability is innate, so I doubt not having your memories will matter. And secondly, you did remember certain things that were important to you, as your journal proves." He carefully omitted mentioning the odd fact that he had shown up in Auric's dreams. "At least take a look at some of the more common arrays, they might jog your memory. And see if you can use them – they'll come in handy for defense…."

"I told you, I don't need them! I can take care of myself and Al without alchemy," growled Auric, leaping up and heading to the kitchen, ostensibly to rinse out his mug. He leaned against the sink heavily, keeping his back determinedly to Roy.

Roy followed him, undaunted. "What are you afraid of, Auric?"

"I'm not afraid!" Auric rounded on the older man, his hands clenching into fists at his side. "I just…it's not going to work, so why bother?" His whole body was shaking now. "Can't you just leave it alone?"

"Are you afraid that it's not going to work…or that it will?" challenged Roy. "You don't know, do you? And that's why you're running."

"I am not running!" Auric's eyes blazed indignantly.

Roy sighed. "Then talk to me, Auric. Help me to understand. I can't help you and Alphonse if you don't trust me." Déjà vu, he thought in weary amusement. This Elric definitely has trust issues. He stepped away, letting Auric have some space. "Believe it or not, I care about the two of you. I want Alphonse to be safe, too, so at least in that we have the same goals."

Auric swallowed hard. Suddenly he looked very young. His next words, though, shattered that illusion. "Do you have any whiskey?"

* * *

Roy poured another generous shot of whiskey for the still shaking Auric. The first shot had gone down immediately, and that had seemed to calm the Gatekeeper's sudden bout of nerves, so Roy hoped the second would brace him up sufficiently to talk about what was bothering him. The colour was high in Auric's face, but Roy couldn't tell if it was stress, or the warmth of the fire, or the effects of the whiskey. Still, it was better than the waxen pallor of a few minutes ago.

"Whenever I see an array – any array! - something in me seems to recognize it," Auric said abruptly. He still wasn't meeting Roy's gaze, and his fingers clenched his tumbler so tightly that Roy was worried it might shatter, but at least his jaw seemed to have unlocked. "It's like a tickle at the very edges of my consciousness, like when you know you know something but can't quite articulate it."

"And I'm…scared. What if I try to activate it and it doesn't work? Everyone wants me to be Edward Elric. But what if I'm not? What if the part of me that was him died somewhere? Do you know what it's like to see the disappointment in peoples' faces whenever they realize I'm not Ed? That I don't remember them?" Roy started guiltily.

"But what if I try and I do activate it? What if I remember? There's a part of me screaming that I shouldn't know what an 'array' is, much less how to use it. I think it's a part of me that's scared to die. Because if I remember…if Ed comes back…what happens to me? What happens to Auric?"

Auric finally turned his head to look at Roy. "It's funny, because Al said I was taking this all very well. Gatekeepers have a reputation for being to take anything in stride, because if you aren't afraid to die, what else could you possibly have to lose that could matter? But this is different. I'm not afraid of dying in action as me. But to just vanish from existence because _you were never supposed to exist_…that's different."

"It might not happen, you know," Roy said gently. "Maes did some checking with a couple of psychologists. Sometimes memories come back gradually, and integrate with the new personality. And sometimes the memories never come back – but that doesn't mean you can't re-learn what you lost, or rebuild relationships. Al and Winry already accept you, Auric, as a separate person from Ed, even if they do miss him. Give them time."

"But it could happen," said Auric bleakly. "And to be frank, the alternative isn't that great anyway. How would you like to try living every day knowing that lurking in the backs of people's eyes, people whose opinions matter to you, here's a lingering sadness that you're not someone else? My existence is both an accusation and an apology, and frankly, it's getting old." His face was desolate. "That's why I couldn't speak about this to Al. He already feels guilty about feeling the way he does. And I can't blame him. But it isn't the easiest thing to live with, either."

Roy ran through various appropriately understanding responses in his mind. No, too condescending. That one would be too trite. How about…no, too dismissive. Oh dear. Auric gazed at him expectantly. "I'm sorry," Roy threw up his hands in despair. "I…honestly can't think of a single uplifting and suitably mature-and-wise thing to say. Except that no, I can't imagine living that way. And that the whole situation, to be candid…sucks."

Auric shut his eyes. Roy watched worriedly. Then a small snicker emerged from Auric's lips. The snicker turned into a giggle, and then a full-throated laugh that seemed to well up from somewhere deep within. It was infectious, and Roy found himself collapsing into the armchair opposite and giving himself over to gentle hysteria. Every time one of them managed to stop, the other would eye him and snort, "This sucks!" sending them both off into gales of laughter again. The release of tension was palpable, and, Roy thought hazily, inevitable enough given the events of the past day. He slid bonelessly down in his seat, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading through his body as he tipped the last amber drops down his throat. Auric gurgled once more, something that sounded like, "welcome to my life," then finally seemed to calm down, although his lips were still twitching. He looked over at Roy with a mix of resignation and curiosity.

"Got some chalk?"

* * *

Auric stared apprehensively at the array Roy had drawn on the wooden floorboards. The older man stood up, dusting his hands off lightly. "There. A simple one to start. Not even a transmutation, just a change of state." He set a half-full glass in the center of the array. "In a liquid state: water." He knelt again and touched the array lightly with both hands, energy crackling briefly around the glass. "A change in the energy level: ice. And back again." He held out the chalk. "Now you try. I've found that most people find it easier to activate an array they've drawn themselves." His fingers were warm, and dusty, and dry as they brushed Auric's lightly, dropping the white stick of chalk into his open palm. "Go on."

Auric faltered, turning the chalk over in his hand. Roy waited, unmoving. The blonde man worried at his lip for a moment, before pulling himself together and reaching out determinedly, inscribing a circle neatly before him on his first try. He glanced over briefly at Roy's array for reference, then quickly filled in the remainder of the array with firm, decisive strokes. Roy raised his eyebrows silently and moved the glass into the new array. "Good. Now just relax and focus. It's about being sensitive to the flows of energy." Auric eyed the array dubiously, then mimicked Roy's earlier actions.

Nothing happened.

"Oh well, guess that's that," announced Auric just a little too cheerfully for Roy's liking, as he started to get up from the floor. A hand on his shoulder pushed him back down again. "What?"

Roy glared down at the shorter man. "That's it?"

"What more did you expect?" responded Auric irritably, brushing Roy's hand off with more force than was necessary.

"I _expected _you to make a reasonable effort at it, _Gatekeeper_," Roy bit off coldly, drawing on all his years of military experience to compress disappointment, anger and compassion into the look he generally reserved for recalcitrant subordinates. A spark rose in Auric's eyes at the use of his title and his gaze rose slowly to meet Roy's. "It's much the same thing, from what you've told me," Roy added, not unkindly.

"Maybe I just don't want to." Auric's face set in a familiar, mulish expression.

"You wouldn't have drawn the array if you didn't want to," countered Roy sharply. "But fine, I'll give you a choice. You can choose to run away right here, right now, from this place, from Al, from all the people who knew you and want to know you again. Or you can stay, and trust me, and watch over Al like you promised. It's your choice, Auric. You said you were old enough to be mature. Prove it."

The object of his derision hissed. "Don't condescend to me, you son-of-a-bitch."

Roy smirked. "Don't make me."

Auric looked longingly at the door. Be careful what you wish for, he thought bitterly. He had woken up on his Aleph Day wanting to remember who and what he had been before, and now he was being confronted with it in spades. So close, so easy to just pick up his few possessions and walk out and away from all this madness. Where to, he didn't know, but just away. Preferably somewhere that the universe was willing to cut him a break, where he didn't have to make _choices_ that seemed to wind up boiling down to life or death. A log fell in the grate, sending up a hiss of sparks and ash, and his eyes were drawn to the dying embers in the fireplace. There had been fire and ash too, at the last Gate. And Alp. His friend. His brother in more ways than one. He had left him behind, dead in that other world, and had found him again in Al, here. A line from an old Gatekeeper ballad floated through his mind and he sighed. There was no choice in this case, not really. "Let's see if the phoenix can rise," he murmured softly under his breath as he turned his attention back to the array. He sensed Roy stirring behind him, but that faded away into shadowy darkness as he gathered himself and opened himself up to _feel_…an array is merely a crutch to help focus energies, he thought absently, like the beads…concentrate on it and on what you want to have happen…ground yourself….

His hand stretched out towards the array, but he didn't touch the chalk outline. Roy watched in fascination as Auric bowed his golden head over the array. He could feel the air beginning to hum with alchemic energy on a scale that seemed far too great for such a small array, and he readied himself to tackle Auric if something went wrong. But suddenly the energies seemed to focus themselves in Auric's hand, rushing forward so suddenly that they seemed to leave a vacuum in their wake, and then Auric lifted his head, smiling gently as he caressed the air above the glass, which was pulling itself into a different shape, lengthening into a tapered vase and the water too was changing form, springing up above the lip of the glass and crystallizing into the form of a single blood-red rose.

Roy let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Go to the head of the class," he said softly. "Transmutation on the first try. You didn't even touch the array."

"I didn't have to," Auric's eyes were large and luminous. "It just helps with the focus, I think. Ed never had to either, did he?"

* * *

_**Tango de Salon**: A way of dancing tango characterized by slow measured moves, with the emphasis on precision and elegance. The dancing couple remains at a "proper" distance from each other, i.e., their bodies are not in a close embrace. _

_The leader leads the follower in the caminada, or "tango walk" to the cross-step, known as cruzada or **trabada**._

_Beats six, seven, and eight are the **resolución** or ending. _


	8. Conjunction

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Warning: some mention of _shounen-ai_ in this chapter. Brief and non-graphic but there. If such things offend you, please skip this chapter. And please, no flames. Or I'll sic Auric on you.

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 8: Conjunction_**

The smell of frying bacon and eggs laced with the aroma of strong, fresh coffee penetrated Roy Mustang's consciousness gradually. There was a certain intimacy about the experience of waking up this way, he thought hazily, since it implied that he had allowed someone to spend the night with him, which was, despite his reputation as a ladies' man, a surprisingly rare occurrence. It was the added promise that was implied by the act of waking up together that he was uncomfortable with, not to mention the invasion of his private space. Something had evidently been different this time around. He fuzzily attempted to piece his scattered thoughts together. Now who had he….

"You're awake. Good morning."

And Roy's heart missed a beat as his mind skipped back four years.

He had been nearly ready to turn in, he remembered. The wind had been howling around the eaves, and the thought of his warm bed had been tantalizing him the entire evening as he had forced himself to finish up the teetering stack of paperwork on his desk. Just as he had signed his last report with a relieved flourish and was standing to stretch out the kinks in his back, there had been a furious hammering at his front door. A rush of adrenaline had snapped him out of his stupor and he had moved to answer the summons, pausing only to snap on his gloves. On the assumption that anyone rousing him at this hour had nothing good in mind for him, he had summoned a flame to his finger tips before flinging the door open…to find Edward Elric standing there, locks of hair flying loose behind him in the gale, golden eyes lit with a strange mixture of triumph – and loss. "Fullmetal? What…."

Roy had gotten no further before the young alchemist had stepped over the threshold of his house, kicked the door shut, looked up determinedly – and kissed him straight on. Without hesitation, or fear, or doubt. And, much to his own surprise, he had found himself responding in kind. Coming up for air, he had tried to speak, to say something, anything, to articulate his confusion, but had found himself silenced with a gentle hand over his mouth. "Don't say anything," Ed had whispered. "For once, just be." And he had obeyed. Their coupling had been frenzied, almost animalistic, and yet strangely tender for all that, and when they had lain there in each other's arms, spent, he had thought his heart might burst for all the unaccustomed feelings that this young man – this boy! – had awakened in him, feelings that he'd thought long dead and buried, that he'd never expected to be able to – or to want to feel ever again.

He had woken up the next morning to a bed that felt strangely empty and had followed the smell of frying bacon and eggs laced with the aroma of strong, fresh coffee to the kitchen. Ed had turned from the stove, smiling, and handed him a mug of coffee. "You're awake. Good morning." He had taken the mug in silent awkwardness as their fingers had brushed, feeling oddly uncertain in his own house, as though he were the intruder. The intimate physical knowledge of how those fingers felt against his skin, and of the way that face looked, unguarded and lit by moonlight as it gazed down at him, eyes darkened and lips parted, seemed to have no place in the thin wavering light of morning. Ed had seemed happy to leave Roy to his silence, leaning back against the kitchen counter and studying Roy's face carefully over the rim of this own mug, as though memorizing each feature. Then suddenly, the blonde had sighed, and his usual mask of defiance had dropped back over his features. "Thanks for the hospitality, Colonel. I'll see you later," he had grunted as he drained his mug and turned towards the door. Roy had watched him go, stunned.

"Fullmetal…Ed..." It had been meant as an interrogative, but instead came out sounding like a plea. It had surprised him, and, he suspected, Ed too, from the slight falter in his steps.

The blonde had paused at the threshold, but had not turned around. "Later, Colonel. Oh, and…take care of yourself, Roy."

_Later. Take care of yourself_. He had had occasion to remember those words later that day when they came to tell him that Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist was missing, presumed dead in some kind of accident. That Edward Elric's little brother had survived and had shed his armour, and was babbling something about his brother dying to save him, and that it wasn't fair, and that they'd had to sedate him because he kept thrashing about screaming for his brother.

Hawkeye had organized a memorial service. He had attended, as CO, and had even choked out a few appropriate phrases about loss and life and its meaning thereof. He was certain Havoc had cried. Then he had gone out with Maes and gotten very, very drunk. He was pretty sure Maes had winkled the entire story out of him then, because his friend was entirely _too_ solicitous for the next week or so, although the unwritten rules of their friendship forbade him from ever bringing up the subject. Roy Mustang was a brilliant man. He knew what he was supposed to do, intellectually, could even hear a certain voice lecture about moving forwards and never back. Understood that what had happened was a certain prodigy's way of saying goodbye.

But he still clung to those words and the promise implicit in them. _Later. Take care of yourself._

"Are you all right?"

Roy snapped back to his present as a mug of coffee was shoved under his nose. "Here, this will probably help. I'm pretty lousy myself in the mornings without a caffeine fix." Auric was regarding him with a familiar tawny gaze that held nothing more than a vague general concern for Roy's disoriented state. "Go on. And then you should eat breakfast before it gets cold, nothing worse than rubbery scrambled eggs. Hope you don't mind that I helped myself first, but I want to get an early start and see Alphonse before his exam."

Bowing his head, Roy washed down the pain threatening to rise from the pit of his stomach with a scalding mouthful of coffee.

* * *

Alphonse Elric did his best to ignore the fluttery feeling just beneath his ribcage. He'd been practicing alchemist for _years_, and had even passed the written examinations for State Alchemist at eleven. How hard could the practical examinations be? The famous Flame Alchemist was known to be his sponsor. Piece of cake. 

Right.

He groaned, slumping against the wall. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be here. He should be back in his little house in Risembool with his family solving the little problems that popped up in every community, from drought to a broken plough to needing the roof of a barn raised. Ed had always been the strong one, putting himself out there, shielding his little brother from the evils of the world. Alphonse was a firm believer in the fact that some people were _born_ to be heroes. They might not want to be, but they had all the requisite characteristics and only required the right set of circumstances to be awakened to their destiny. One of the most important characteristics being a certain willingness, desire even, to get involved in world affairs. Like General Mustang, say, or even Ed, for all his protests. Al was quite content to live out his life on a much smaller scale, thank you very much.

He wondered if there was precedent for a State Alchemist becoming a hermit.

"Chin up," came an amused drawl. "It won't be that bad. I passed it, didn't I? Not that I remember doing so, of course."

Al looked up gloomily at Auric. The golden-haired man was looking irritatingly cheerful and well rested. "You actually _wanted_ to pass it, and you're still the youngest qualifier on record. I'm not quite as motivated."

"Better than the draft," was the unsympathetic reply. "Come on, show some backbone, you've been through worse. Nearly dying, for instance. What would Ed say?"

"He'd bind me with alchemy to prevent me from joining, then go off and kill General Mustang on the general principle that he would have had something to do with all this," Al pointed out wryly.

"Oh, good point," mused Auric. "Well, I'll put the latter on my list of things to do, if you like. I'm not sure I can oblige on the former yet, I've only just gotten the hang of this alchemy thing.…"

The rest of what he was about to say was cut off as Al seized him by the shoulders, quite forgetting his bout of nerves. "You _remember_ how to do alchemy?"

"Not quite," admitted Auric. "But Mustang…_persuaded_…me to try activating a simple array. Turns out the principle is quite similar to the energy control involved in Gating. And then I transmuted…."

"You transmuted!" shouted Al, giddily. Auric winced and made a shushing gesture with his hands.

"It's not a big deal, just very basic…."

"It's a start! Oh, this is wonderful! I'm sure you'll be great at it, there are all these books here at Central in the National Library that you can read, and I'll teach you the way you used to teach me, and…" Al continued babbling excitedly as Auric dragged him down the hall. The Gatekeeper sighed, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache that even his morning coffee could not hold at bay. At least he had gotten Al's mind off the practicals.

* * *

Maes looked up in amusement as Auric staggered into his office and fell into a chair, eyes firmly shut. He pushed over his newest photo album, only to snatch it back in the nick of time as a sai sank quivering into the wood of the desk barely an inch from his hand. Auric opened an eye and glared balefully. "Don't even start, Colonel." 

"Hey, that's a new set of photographs!" sulked Maes. "Wait a minute…how did you do that without looking?"

"Felt it," said Auric briefly, not bothering to elaborate. "So. The General told me I should stop by after seeing Al off to his practicals. The boy's a mess of nerves. Was I ever that green?"

Maes smiled reminiscently. "Oh, yes. Not that you'd ever let on, of course. You were a scrappy one, always spoiling for a fight. I always thought that was because you thought the best defence was a good offence."

Auric shrugged. "Still do. Did you have something to tell me?"

Maes nodded. "Hang on." He stepped to the door and beckoned someone in. Auric looked up to see a looming pink mountain of a man with a curl right in the middle of his forehead. "Auric, this is Major Alex Louis Armstrong, also known as the Strong-arm Alchemist."

"Pleased to meet you," said Auric automatically as he took stock of the man, who stared back solemnly. Auric's eyes narrowed. Wait a minute, was Armstrong's moustache …quivering? And were those tears in his eyes? And…his thoughts were slammed out of his head as the big man lunged forward and wrapped his beefy arms around Auric in a bear hug, freeing one hand to rumple his hair vigorously as he sniffled. "Edward-_kun_…oh…I can't believe you've come back…."

"Air…can't breathe…" wheezed Auric. The big man merely sobbed harder. Oh well, no help for it – and he teleported himself to the other side of Maes's desk, causing Armstrong to stumble forward in surprise as his arms suddenly closed on empty air. Maes's eyebrows crawled into his hairline.

"That's…very impressive," he said by way of understatement. "Um. Pull yourself together, Major. Pride of the Armstrongs and all that. There'll be time for waterworks and catching up later. Would you please give _Auric_ a précis of what we've discovered thus far on the identity of General Mustang's would-be assassins?"

Armstrong gulped once more, casting a mournful look at Auric, and sat down, although his back stiffened noticeably at the Colonel's invocation of his family history. "Yes sir."

* * *

"You look good in uniform," complimented Riza Hawkeye, fussing over the newly qualified State Alchemist Alphonse Elric, a.k.a. The Earth Moving Alchemist. "Sir." 

Al winced. "Please, could you not do that? It doesn't seem right somehow. You've been like a big sister to me all these years. And you never called Ed, 'Sir'."

Riza's mouth twitched. "He was still a child. You're all grown up now, an adult. And now that you've qualified, you do outrank me." Al hunched over even further, a habit from his days as a towering suit of armour.

"I still don't like it," he sighed.

* * *

"I still don't like it," said Auric flatly. "Why do I have to be _Mustang's_ apprentice? It's hardly a low-profile position, and it keeps me away from Al. Not to mention that the man can occasionally be rather annoying." 

Maes took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know perfectly well why, Auric, so stop being difficult. It would be very unlikely for Al to take on an apprentice, being that he's only just qualified as a State Alchemist. General Mustang is senior enough, powerful enough, and known to have a soft spot for Alphonse Elric. The story that he would agree to take on a cousin of the Elrics as an apprentice is not implausible. It also explains your resemblance to Al sufficiently. And given that you'll be family, it will not seem unrealistic that you spend a great deal of time with Al, or that you share quarters with him." His eyes twinkled. "Now, the interesting part will be making that sound like the cover story that it is."

Armstrong blinked. "What?"

Auric rolled his eyes. "The people we're worried about will naturally suspect there's something more to the story, Major," he lectured in a pedantic tone of voice. "So they'll dig. And what they'll come up with is that I'm really an operative for MI, working for the Colonel and _posing_ as Mustang's apprentice. That'll satisfy their little conspiracy theories sufficiently and they won't dig any further. My asking questions will then be attributed to my 'real' job for MI, and they'll be blinded by their own sense of superiority at having 'found me out'. In the meantime, they'll assume that my dabbling in alchemy is strictly to keep up the pretence of my cover story and that I have minimal ability at best, when the truth is that I will be working to regain the knowledge I had. Understand?"

"We can't all be prodigies at cloak-and-dagger schemes, Auric," Mustang rebuked tartly from the door.

Auric's head snapped up and he glared at the General, but had the grace to look chagrined. "I never said I was one," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Major…I just…it's a lot to have to deal with, that's all. And I've been antsy all day." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I need a workout."

"I often go to the gym to train," offered Armstrong, placid and unruffled. "You're welcome to join me. I would not mind having a sparring partner."

"I'd like that," smiled Auric in surprise. "Thank you."

Mustang smirked. "Excellent. I couldn't possibly take on an apprentice incapable of defending himself in a duel. You can't train the mind to its potential without training the body."

Auric seethed, but refused to take the bait. "Just don't expect me to call you _Master_," he finally ground out. "That's reserved for your dogs of war."

"You agreed to be the military's lapdog once…for a price."

A charged silence fell, Maes and Armstrong holding their breaths as the air between Auric and Mustang crackled with unseen electricity. Finally Auric said in a strange, inflectionless voice, "Equivalent Exchange."

Mustang nodded. "Conservation of Energy. You help me to change all this. Lend me your skills, your strength and your powers to end this war…to change this world."

"You swear to me you'll keep Al safe and whole. Swear that he'll see Winry and Risembool again after this war is over. And I'll do…whatever it takes."

A nod. "I swear it. On the memory of one whom I loved. Whom I still love." _Later. Take care of yourself._

Auric frowned at the odd note in the man's voice and filed it away for future reference, though he could hear the sincerity in Mustang's voice. "Then our contract is negotiated, witnessed and sealed," he said in the formal words used by all Gatekeepers, bowing slightly. "I am in your service until our contract shall be concluded, or you release me, or my death should dissolve the contract." He straightened, adding wryly, "I'm surprised the Guild didn't include a clause about amnesia being a valid reason for contract termination. Sensitive topic, I guess."

"Auric," Maes questioned softly, "only your death dissolves the contract?"

The Gatekeeper nodded. "It's a matter of honour. Even if our client dies through no fault of ours, we are morally bound to honour the contract. You can't move forward until you've closed the past behind you." A haunted expression crossed the General's face, and Auric frowned again as he noticed Maes shoot the man a worried look. Guess everyone's got a past, he thought, shifting uncomfortably.

Everyone jumped as Armstrong burst into tears. "This is all so _noble _and _self-sacrificing_! It reminds me of the Armstrong family tradition of…."

Auric glanced over at Mustang. "So, venerable Flame Alchemist…know any alchemic solutions for shutting someone up?"

* * *

_**Conjunction** is the fourth operation in alchemical transformation. It is the coming together of the opposing archetypal forces of the Sun and Moon or the King and Queen. _

_**Earth** is one of the Four Elements of alchemy. Earth in the alchemical sense carries the archetypal properties of manifestation, birth, and material creation. It is associated with the operation of Conjunction and represented by the green ore of copper. _


	9. Deja Vu All Over Again

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Comment:

As I write this chapter, we're coming up on the 3000 hits mark. I am absolutely blown away at the reception this story is receiving and where it's gone, given that it started with just one scene in my head that wouldn't go away (and for the curious, it would be the end of Chapter 5, when Roy and Ed/Auric meet again for the first time since Al's restoration). A huge Thank You to all of you wonderful readers, you've made a girl very, very happy.

* * *

_**Chapter 9: Deja Vu All Over Again**_

"No, no, that can't be right."

"Really," drawled Roy, eyes narrowing in anticipation as one hand reached up absently to rub at his temple. "You're awfully confident for someone who's only been doing this a week." While the two one-hour teaching sessions he squeezed into his schedule daily were in many ways the highlight of his day – and certainly the most satisfying part of it, given the quickness of Auric's mind – it had been a very long day. He had spent a good part of it overseeing some basic offensive training for the civilian alchemist draftees, many of who were still going to be nothing more than cannon fodder on the frontlines, he thought morosely. At least Auric's lessons had been progressing well and his powers were easily starting to rival that of any State Alchemist, even if his theoretical knowledge was sketchy in parts. On the latter matter however, both Roy and Al thought privately that was the least of their worries. The real issue was Auric's unwillingness to actually utilize his powers. Oh, he revelled in the intellectual challenge of trying to master this new field and integrate it with his knowledge of Gating, but despite his instinctive grasp of alchemy, he still preferred to rely on the skills he was sure of. Roy couldn't really blame him. His Gatekeeping skills were all Auric had known for as long as he could remember, after all.

Auric snorted. "Please. Don't insult me. I'm suffering from amnesia, not a lobotomy." His right hand moved swiftly over the paper, diagramming a series of alchemic transformations. "There, you see? Your way takes too much time. If you did it this way and then used a stabilized five-point elemental pentagram array, you'd be done in half the time with twice the conversion ratio."

Roy shook his head indulgently. "That's been thought of before, _youngling_."

"Who are you calling short?" snapped Auric testily, then flushed in annoyance when he caught Roy's smirk. "Will you quit with the diminutives, I'm pretty sure verbal abuse was _not_ part of our contract! Anyway, if it's a known transformation, why isn't it used?"

"Because no one's ever been able to stabilize a system of five elements. Well, that's not entirely true – there are rumours that alchemists in Xing have mastered it for healing purposes, but there's something too foreign about that concept to fit into our system of alchemy, it seems," explained Roy patiently.

Auric looked uncertain. "That can't be right."

Roy repressed a sigh. "Why not?"

The younger man shrugged. "Because I do it all the time."

Roy choked on a sip of cold coffee. "What?"

"Gates. They're essentially based on a similar concept to a five-point array. You can only open one if you balance all five elements – _shui, huo, jin, mu, tu_ - and achieve that stable state we call _kong_," Auric said offhandedly. He propped his chin up on his hands, looking up at Roy through long, dark lashes. He'd had a long day too – studying alchemy, getting a better feel for the power structure and political landscape of Amestris, helping Maes with a couple of investigations and shadowing Al on an assignment in which the new Earth Moving Alchemist had lived up to his new moniker, essentially terraforming an entire barren plain while pursuing a rogue alchemist who had been holding the farmers of the region hostage to his whims by destroying their only means of livelihood. The casual way Al had transformed acres of land made Auric shudder every time he thought about it – he knew Al had control of his powers and would never use them maliciously – but it was still a little unnerving. One thing to know what alchemy could do, quite another to see it actually happening. He didn't think it would ever become instinctive for him.

It never occurred to him that that was exactly what people thought when they looked at him.

Roy sat back in his chair, shaking his head in astonishment. "Just whenever I think I've finally got your measure, you never fail to come up with something new to surprise me, Fullm…Auric." He cursed himself mentally for the slip. He really should call it a day, but he knew Hawkeye would happily put a couple of holes in his hide if he didn't finish these training exercise reports. Auric was looking at him with a dawning realization in his eyes.

"The overlap in your mind is increasing, isn't it?" Auric asked softly. "Ever since we started this…alchemy crash course, or whatever you want to call it. I can see it in people's faces – whenever I'm working on something related to alchemy, their attitudes change. It's like they have Ed back for a moment."

Roy was silent, considering. "Yes," he said finally. "I'm sorry. It's not very fair to you."

Auric acknowledged the sentiment with a resigned nod. "_C'est la vie._" He stood gracefully, pulling his Gatekeeper bearing about him like a suit of armour. "Not that matters as long as you honour our contract. Shall we take up the issue of the five-point array tomorrow? You look tired. And I promised I would spar with Major Armstrong tonight."

Roy watched the blonde man leave his office, shaking his head gently at what had just happened. Auric had just upended a known scientific fact, stomped all over it, and then shrugged it off as an everyday occurrence. A prodigy indeed.

* * *

Alphonse Elric leaned up against the back wall of the gym as he watched Auric and Armstrong spar. He sometimes trained with them to keep fit, but when it came to hand-to-hand, he knew to leave it to the experts. Armstrong's shirt had long since been discarded, and Al swore that if he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head _just so_, he could see pink sparkles coming off the man's bulging, rippling muscles. This go-around, the Major had chosen a single _bokken_ as his weapon. In contrast, Auric's body was held in a relaxed yet ready stance, two practice sais in his hands as he circled his opponent, a serene expression on his face. No alchemy was permitted in these practices since the main focus of the two men was the training of their physical bodies. That and no one wanted to deal with the paperwork that would be involved if they destroyed the gym. Captain Hawkeye would _not _be amused.

"Ugh," Armstrong grunted as they clashed, neatly avoiding what would have been a bruising blow from the hilt of Auric's sai. "So, the General's lessons are going well?"

Auric nodded, ducking a swing and blocking with his sais in reverse position. "As well as can be expected – he's actually a pretty good instructor, but you didn't hear that from me. Found out something odd today though." He loved these practices with Armstrong, who was proving to be a good friend. For one thing, Armstrong was one of the few people who simply accepted him as Auric and didn't seem to want or need him to be anyone else.

"What?" asked Al interestedly. He was happy, if unsurprised, at the speed with which Auric was mastering Alchemy. It made him feel as though he was that much closer to getting Ed back.

"Well, it seems you guys don't – or can't – stabilize a system of five elements." Auric lunged forward trying to trap Armstrong's weapon in the tines of his sais.

Armstrong nodded, anticipating Auric's attack in the nick of time. "Can't be done, lad. It was an Armstrong back in the 1700s who wrote the definitive work on…."

"I can do it," Auric interrupted hurriedly to stave off another history lesson. "It's how I open Gates." He brought his hands up defensively before noticing that Armstrong had stopped and was staring at him agape. Hell. He always forgot that behind that beefy, stolid soldier exterior was the mind of a renowned State Alchemist. Al swallowed a couple of times, but a fanatical light shone in his eyes. Auric winced, knowing what was coming. Alchemists…obsessive bookworms, all of them. "It's no big deal…_really_…."

"Let's go research this now!" Al was tugging at his arm, and wonder of wonders, Armstrong was already pulling _on_ his shirt, intent on investigating this challenge to his family legacy.

Auric sighed, unable to resist not one, but two State Alchemists making puppy-dog eyes at him. "Can we at least get dinner first?"

* * *

The array on the sheet of paper spread out between the three men made a sad little sound as it sparked and fizzled into smoke. Again.

Al sighed. "You see, it's no good. Every time I try to activate the fifth element, I lose control of the whole."

Armstrong's pink face corrugated like a thoughtful bulldog as he tugged absently at one end of his moustache, his thick fingers stained with ink and chalk. "Could it be a mistake in the array? Although this is the seventh configuration we've tried." He looked over at Auric, who shrugged noncommittally and closed the book he had been flipping through, a thick tome titled _Being A Learned Explanation Of Pentacles, Unicorns & Other Symbols_ by one Frederick Philippe Armstrong.

"I wouldn't know, I don't use arrays when I Gate. You two are the experts on this stuff."

"Why don't you try activating the array?" asked Al hopefully.

Auric grimaced. "I'm used to having another person be my beacon, Al, not a circle on a piece of paper." He knew that part of his reluctance stemmed from an unreasonable feeling that this was just one more way this world was conspiring to take away the one thing he felt like he could cling to as being his and his alone. While the rational part of his mind was pointing out that the array was simply a medium of sorts the way his beads had been, the tired and hence irrational part of his mind was resentfully sniping that it wasn't bad enough everyone wanted him to be someone else and to learn alchemy, now they wanted to take over Gatekeeping too? "Teleporting is one thing, but activating a Gate…I just don't think I can do it this way, and anyway, you need two people to open a Gate."

"But one of you starts by sending out a beacon," Al pointed out. "You have to be able to stabilize the five elements at that point, don't you?" Auric's head snapped up and his golden eyes glared into Al's soft grey ones. Busted again. And a tactical error since he'd never been able to refuse Alp…Al anything when he looked at him with that affectionate mix of hope and faith.

"Do you remember everything I tell you?" Auric finally muttered peevishly, looking away.

"Yes, pretty much. Since we were children," smiled Al, seemingly oblivious to the sulkiness in Auric's voice. "You're my big brother after all, why wouldn't I listen to you? Besides, you liked that…you said it helped to be able to discuss things with me."

"Fine, fine," sighed Auric. "I'll give it a shot. It probably won't work, and then we can all go to bed, all right? Give me that damned array."

Armstrong pushed over a fresh sheet that he had just inked. "Here, use this one. I've made some modifications: rearranged the order of elements, added a couple of stabilizing runes, nothing too fancy."

"The order shouldn't matter," replied the Gatekeeper absently, flexing his fingers. "But thank you." Al and Armstrong watched hopefully as Auric stretched his hand towards the array, his eyes becoming distant and unfocused, an intent expression on his face as though he were listening for something only he could hear. The air began to hum and thicken and it became an effort to draw breath. Still Auric stood there, unmoving, relaxed, just_ waiting_, thought Al dazedly, and then he seemed to find what he was looking for because a smile of satisfaction spread over his face. "_Kai_!" he snapped, putting his palm down squarely in the centre of the array, which immediately crackled and began to glow.

Al stared at the glowing array in fascination. He didn't know how he knew, but he could almost…_feel_ the five elements of water, fire, metal, wood and earth entwining and combining within the array, held in check by the man who stood before them. Auric's eyes refocused and he blinked a couple of times, then looked across the glowing array at Al and Armstrong. "Hey. It worked."

"I wonder," rumbled Armstrong. "Now that it is activated, can you pass control of it to someone else?"

Auric grunted sceptically, interested despite himself. "Hmm. I don't know. That obviously doesn't work when you yourself are acting as the beacon, but since the array is external…" he trailed off thoughtfully. "Al, come here and hold out your hands over the array. No, the other way, palms up."

Obediently the young State Alchemist did as instructed. Auric took his palm from the array, brows knitting in concentration to maintain control over the elements he was bending to his will. He held his hands over Al's, palms down, barely touching, and Al's lips parted in wonder as he felt something pass between them. The closest thing he could liken it to was being handed a very warm, taut pair of reins with a set of very fiery horses on the other end. Auric smiled encouragingly, yellow eyes glinting in the light of the array. "Don't worry, I'll be able to ground it if you lose control. But you'll be fine, Al. Just focus on holding on."

Al gulped and nodded. Strangely enough, he wasn't afraid. And he had never felt closer to Auric than he did right here, right now. A memory surfaced. Two little boys, climbing a tall tree to get closer to the sky. The littler of the two looking down and starting to panic, because the ground seems so very far away. A shaft of sunlight through the trees lights up the golden hair and eyes of the slightly older boy on a branch just below, looking up reassuringly. "You'll be fine, Al. Just hold on. I'm right here." He had stopped shaking immediately, knowing his brother was there watching over him. And they had climbed to the very top of the tree and sat up there watching clouds go by and dreaming of the places they would go and the things they would see. Together. Forever.

"Alphonse-_kun_." He realized that Auric had stepped away some time ago and that Armstrong was addressing him. "Look. You're stabilizing it yourself."

"Really? Wow!" Al gasped at the power thrumming through his hands. He stared in wonderment at the array, but suddenly blanched. "I'm…I'm losing control!"

In a trice, Auric had rushed forward and slammed both palms to the array, gritting his teeth as he grounded the residual charge through his body and into the ground. Armstrong could feel the tremors beneath his feet as the energies Auric had summoned dissipated without a will to hold them in check.

"I'm sorry," Al said, chagrined. "It takes a lot more focus than I'm used to having to maintain. It's so different from the usual arrays."

"No worries," sighed Auric, falling into a chair limply. "It's hard for most people the first time, and this is outside of your experience. And before you ask, yes, I was an exception. Go figure." He bit his lip, trying to slow his breathing. Armstrong narrowed his eyes, standing and coming around the table to kneel solicitously in front of him.

"Auric-_kun_…you don't look well. Perhaps the strain of stabilizing the array was too much?"

Auric let out a harsh bark of amusement. "No offence, Armstrong, but this was a piddly little beacon. I've moved _armies_ across continents and between worlds." He took a deep breath. "No, I'm just tired. I don't know what it is."

"Mama was always tired before…before she…" Al didn't finish. Armstrong was abruptly struck by how young the two brothers looked in the flickering candlelight as they stared at each other. Too young to have seen and done all that they had done.

"Don't be silly, Al. I'm _fine_. I promise." Auric's eyes were solemn. "I've never broken a promise, have I?"

Al's stormy gaze finally softened. "No. No, you haven't."

"Oh good. I was fishing – I wouldn't remember!" Auric's brilliant smile turned teasing. "Come on, let's try this again, you've got me curious now. If I activate an array and turn it over to you to stabilize, I wonder if I can use that as a beacon to open a gate?"

Smiling fondly at the two young men, Armstrong decided that it would be all right for an Armstrong's work to be discredited as long as it was another Armstrong who wrote the new definitive reference work on the subject. He unscrewed his pen and started taking notes.


	10. Let Me Fall

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story!

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title/song credits, please see the end of the story.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 10: Let Me Fall_**

Maes Hughes tipped his chair back against the wall and took a swig from the bottle held loosely in his right hand as he let his eyes wander leisurely around the laughing group milling about the mess hall. While everyone was nominally still in uniform, salutes and titles were being temporarily set aside, and carelessly discarded uniform jackets decorated backs of chairs and table corners. He had talked Roy into agreeing to allow him to organize a casual after-work gathering for his inner circle to let off steam. It had only taken three albums of Alicia's photographs and a couple of finger paintings. And the promise of a bottle of aged port. And the threat of holding "Uncle Roy" to a promise once incautiously made to the aforementioned young lady of taking her shopping. Torture, bribery and blackmail…all in a day's work for a Colonel in the Investigations department of Military Intelligence. He belched in satisfaction, causing the dark-haired man next to him to make a small sound of disgust. "I could be catching up on sleep, you know," came the half-hearted grumble.

Maes snorted. "If you weren't here, you'd be shackled to your desk trying to finish your paperwork with Hawkeye standing over you breathing fire. Think of it as a respite from the dragon." His gaze wandered over to the centre of the room and Roy's followed idly. In the midst of the sea of white and blue, Auric's golden hair shone brightly in the lamplight, contrasting vividly with the dark green of his ever-present cloak. He was perched on the edge of a table, his boots planted on a chair and his head bent down to hear better as he snickered gently at something Al was whispering to him. Roy's eyes lingered wistfully for a moment on the gleaming head, then tore themselves away to glare at Maes, who was shaking his head.

"Roy, Roy…have you maybe considered telling him instead of mooning about like a callow youth of fourteen?" Maes rolled his eyes. "You know, for a legendary Casanova, this is almost embarrassing."

"No," said Roy firmly. "For one thing, I can't afford sentiment right now. We've reached a tipping point in the war, Maes, and it would be a distraction. For another…" he trailed off and took a deep breath, "…for another…the person you're thinking of is _Ed_. _Auric_ doesn't need yet another person trying to impose their expectations of who he should be on him. He's got issues enough as it is."

"Everyone's got issues. And anyway, isn't that what people do?" said Maes softly. "We're all human. People expect things of you too." He began to tick them off on his fingers. "Ambition. Power. Cunning. Ruthlessness. Arrogance…."

"Enough, Maes," Roy warned tightly. "Just let it alone. It's been a good night so far, don't ruin it."

The lamplight glinted off Maes's eyeglasses as he turned to regard his friend seriously. "I'm just saying, Roy, it's his choice as to whether or not he wants to live up to the expectations he's presented with. You made your choice to live up to a certain reputation because you had – and still have – a certain goal. And that's fine - go ahead and shoulder the weight of your choices. But let others hump their own weight, eh?"

Roy's eyes were cold. "Fine words coming from an _officer_ in the military."

"Technically, he's not military. Edward Elric is, and the Fullmetal Alchemist is still marked at MIA," Maes pointed out. "So he's _not _your subordinate and not your responsibility." He paused, and added gently, "He's not a child anymore, Roy. Have faith in his ability to deal with the situation – he's bearing up remarkably well, you must admit."

"I do have faith in him," admitted Roy slowly. His next words were nearly inaudible. "I just don't have the same faith in me."

"Let me – and everyone else in this room – worry about the last part, General Mustang, sir." Maes looked affectionately at his friend. "Look around you, do you think these people would be here if they didn't believe in you?"

Roy raised his eyes slowly. Hawkeye and Auric were laughing over something Fury had just said. Havoc was watching them with a wry smile, cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. Armstrong had shed his shirt in the corner and was striking poses for Al, who was slowly turning purple as he struggled not to laugh. His men. His comrades. His friends.

He sighed. "Thanks, Maes. But I'm still not taking Alicia shopping."

A sudden hubbub caused both men to look over. Auric was being dragged protesting to the centre of the little group and sat firmly in a chair. Roy raised an eyebrow at Maes and they moved forward interestedly. "What's going on?"

Havoc turned and grinned. "Initiation rites! Newest member has to sing a song, remember?"

Hawkeye giggled, swaying slightly. "Remember when Fury sang, 'Baa Baa Black Sheep?'" Fury turned beet-red.

"What about Al, he's new too!" protested Auric desperately. "Please! Colonel…General?" he pleaded hopefully. Roy smirked and shook his head.

"Sorry. The military's fond of its traditions. And Al's not really new anyway, we've known him for years."

Auric pouted dramatically. "Isn't there a pity clause for someone with amnesia? I don't _remember_ any songs."

"The almighty Gatekeepers Guild has no songs?" said Maes in mock horror, clutching at his chest. "Woe be unto such uncultured barbarians!"

"Indeed, that is a tragic thought," sighed Armstrong theatrically. "It brings a tear to mine eye, especially when I consider the fine Armstrong family tradition of musical performance!"

After few minutes of judicious arm-twisting, Auric found himself holding a ragged guitar with a rapt circle of eyes upon him. He groaned. "Fine. But I warn you, the songs of the Guild aren't exactly about sunshine and roses or rousing marches."

Hawkeye shrugged, falling ungracefully to the floor and hugging her knees to her chest. "We're in the middle of a war. We'll live. Havoc sang an advertising jingle once."

Auric smiled wryly. "You asked for it." He began to tune the guitar, strumming experimentally, beginning to pick out a melody. "I'll sing you a Guild song. No one knows how old it is for the simple reason that no one remembers. But it's passed along orally to every new Gatekeeper to remind us that there is no going back, only forward…and that all we have is each other." He took a breath, hummed a few notes, then in a surprisingly pure, round tone, began to sing:

_Let me fall  
Let me climb  
There's a moment when fear  
And dreams must collide_

_Someone I am  
Is waiting for courage  
The one I want  
The one I will become  
Will catch me_

_So let me fall  
If I must fall  
I won't heed your warnings  
I won't hear them_

_Let me fall  
If I fall  
Though the phoenix may  
Or may not rise_

_I will dance so freely  
Holding on to no one  
You can hold me only  
If you too will fall  
Away from all these  
Useless fears and chains_

_Let me fall  
Let me fly  
There's no reason  
To miss this one chance  
This perfect moment  
Just let me fall…._

Roy's throat was tight as Auric finished the haunting melody, his fingers picking gently over the guitar strings as he drew out the last golden note in his low tenor and let it die away into silence. It was as if Auric had read his mind or overheard his earlier discussion with Maes, even though he knew that was impossible. He could see that the song had also affected Al, whose eyes were brimming with tears, and even Hawkeye's lips were quivering as she bowed her head to hide her emotions. Auric smiled sheepishly into the quiet.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

* * *

Riza Hawkeye stumbled out the doors to the mess hall, leaning on the wall for support. She rested her head on the cool concrete, bitterly rebuking herself for her weakness. A sound made her whip around startled, reaching for her gun. She relaxed as she recognized Auric, who was holding up his hands in surrender. "It's only me, Captain. I came to see if you were all right." 

She forced a smile onto her face, surreptitiously swiping at her tears and trying to fix her hair. "I'm fine. You sang beautifully."

Auric shrugged. "It didn't exactly seem to put the group in a good mood."

"I guess it just touched a few nerves, that's all," she sighed, allowing herself to slide down the wall into a sitting position. Auric looked down at her.

"Mind if I join you?" She shook her head and he sat down next to her. They could hear the noise level in the mess start to pick up again as Havoc attempted to organize a card game. Finally, he spoke. "So what was it that affected you about the song? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Oh…nothing important. It just…it reminded me of someone, that's all." She didn't look at him.

"You loved this someone." It was a statement, not a question.

"Love," Riza corrected. She frowned internally. Was she drunk? Riza Hawkeye, Captain, did not generally go about divulging details of her personal life to anyone, least of all extraordinarily attractive young men who were being entirely too thoughtful. How many beers exactly had Fury pressed into her hand?

"And you wanted to hold him to you, but you couldn't." She nodded. "It's General Mustang, isn't it?"

"Who told you?" She turned on him, eyes blazing. "It was Havoc, wasn't it? I'll kill him!"

Auric shook his head carefully. "No one told me, Captain…Riza. I just see the way you watch him when you think no one's looking, that's all." He was silent for a moment, then, "Not that it's any of my business, so feel free to tell me to bugger off. But have you tried telling him? I know he has a reputation, but I've also seen the way he respects you – even admires you. You never know, he might return your feelings. I know the military has rules about fraternisation…but frankly, given that it's the middle of a war and that anyone could be dead tomorrow…I would think it would be worth the risk to try and touch someone, if only for a moment."

She couldn't help herself. Tears ran down her cheeks as a bitter laugh forced its way out. "Oh, that's rich coming from you." He looked at her in confusion as she continued to weep, but she refused to enlighten him. That would be the final humiliation, and even in her current state she refused to give in as she rocked herself back and forth, allowing herself to grieve for what she had lost…despite the fact that she knew she had never had it.

A warm arm wrapped itself around her shoulders. Auric didn't say anything, simply let her cry it all out. He handed her a cocktail napkin as she started to hiccup and calm down. "Here. Dry your eyes." She took it gratefully and leaned back against his arm. It just felt good to have someone there, she realized. She was tough – she had to be, given her profession – but, she realized, it might have come at the expense of human contact.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." They sat in silence for a minute.

"I did try to tell him, once." She didn't look at Auric.

"And?" he asked neutrally.

"He took it as well as could be expected. Politely gave me the brush-off and told me he was in love with someone else. And has chivalrously never mentioned the subject again."

"Ah. I'm sorry." Auric cocked his head curiously. "It's odd though, I would never have guessed he was seriously involved with anyone."

"Oh, he isn't," Riza smiled mirthlessly. "That's the irony of it all. The person he loves has no idea."

She watched as Auric's brow furrowed, feeling strangely removed from the situation. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as the mess hall doors swung open and Roy came striding out, his face stern. His gaze fell on the two of them, and on Auric's arm around her, and something in his face seemed to close up as his eyes turned to stone. Before she could scramble to her feet and explain, he had drawn an air of frigid detachment around himself like a shroud. "Captain Hawkeye. Auric," he acknowledged coolly. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've just received word from the front. It's nearly been overrun and we are to deploy and reinforce the line. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes, Captain. Will that be enough time to conclude your business?"

Riza flinched at the bitter edge in his voice. Auric's eyes narrowed. "Is there a problem, General?" he asked warily, eyes flicking between the downcast captain and her CO.

"Not at all, _Gatekeeper_," Roy's voice trailed back down the hall to them as he turned in the direction of his office. "You're both consenting adults. Make your own choices. Just be on time for the briefing."

* * *

"Permission to speak freely, General?" Havoc was holding himself in an uncharacteristically rigid attitude. Roy nodded curtly. "Sir…this is suicide. They should retreat and await reinforcements. If we rush out there now, it'll just prolong the battle and we'll still lose. Sir." 

"Those are our orders from the Fuhrer himself, Lieutenant." Roy's voice was leaden and lifeless. "Are you suggesting we disobey a direct order?"

"Sir, no Sir!" snapped Havoc, eyes still staring fixedly ahead. "I am asking, Sir, if there is an alternative strategy that could be employed, Sir!"

From his position by the chart wall, Maes shook his head. "Most of the civilian alchemists who were on the line are dead, soldier. The front is buckling, and the mountain ranges mean we can't circle around the enemy and surprise him from the rear. I hate to admit it, but the Fuhrer is right – all we can do is reinforce the line."

"If your Fuhrer were so right, you wouldn't be in the middle of a war," came an annoyed comment from the back of the room. All heads turned. Auric stood there, arms folded, golden eyes snapping sparks. He met Roy's dark, glittering gaze defiantly. "And you need better military tacticians. And until you get your heads screwed on right, I'm not letting you send Al out there to die on some stupid mission doomed to failure."

"Auric, please," whispered Al. "There's nothing you can do. We knew this could happen one way or another."

Auric didn't blink. "We have a contract, Mustang. Or does your damned word mean nothing?"

"Auric-_kun_…" Armstrong warned. "This is not the time…."

"So we do, Gatekeeper." Roy smiled dangerously. "I have every intention of keeping my side of it. How do you intend to keep yours?"

"I'll go instead of Al."

Roy laughed hollowly. "_Le grande gesture_. It means nothing to me. I need more State Alchemists, not a spy. You have talent, but lack the experience – or the desire – to use it. The Earth Moving Alchemist is much more valuable to me in this situation."

"General, please," said Al softly, but in a surprisingly insistent voice. "With all due respect, you aren't helping." Surprised, Roy fell silent as Al moved to face Auric. "Auric…I know why you're doing this. I do. But I'm not Alp. And even he made his choice when he went to the front." Auric was shaking his head as if to block out Al's words, but Al was relentless. "You have to let me make that choice for myself. I believe in the General. I love my family and my country, and if I can help to defend it, I will. I couldn't live with myself otherwise."

"Would Ed have let you go?" Auric asked hoarsely.

Al looked thoughtful. "He would have been furious at first. But in the end, I think…no, I know he would have. He believed in me."

Auric squeezed his eyes shut. The redness of his eyelids seemed to mock him. Flame and ashes. Ashes and flame. And in the middle of it, always Alp. Always Al. And he knew what he had to do. "Fine. Go. But I'm coming along. And we're going to do it my way."

"And what way would that be, Gatekeeper? We bow to your doubtless superior tactics." inquired Roy sardonically.

A scimitar smile gave Auric a feral look. "We're going to sneak up on the bastards from behind." The soldiers in the room were exchanging puzzled looks. Maes finally spoke up.

"Auric…perhaps you didn't hear me. There is no way around the enemy."

"Not for _you_, perhaps," Auric shrugged nonchalantly. "But you've never had my help before."

Al suddenly knew what was coming. "No. Auric, no! You know something is wrong. You're too weak to open a Gate large enough! And I'm not strong enough to anchor the other end!"

A light was dawning in Roy's eyes. "If you can open a Gate that takes us behind the enemy, we can crush them in a hammer-and-anvil formation. They'll never know we're coming."

"I said _no_!" The tables had turned and now Al was the one barring the gates. "General, you've seen what it's doing to him. I know he's lying when he says that it's nothing! Even the little Gates we've tried were exhausting for him. Over this distance…and the size it'll have to be…and to transport the mass of an _army_...it could kill him!"

"Surely not," protested Maes. "He's done countless ones before. Right, Auric?" He looked over at the Gatekeeper, who was refusing to meet his eyes. "Auric?" he whispered, a sickening feeling starting to manifest in the pit of his stomach as he took in the grim, pale set of Auric's face.

"I can do this, Al. I've managed to hold much larger Gates intact," Auric said, avoiding Maes's question.

Al shook his head stubbornly. "You've always had another Gatekeeper to help you. If you do this, you won't have a partner. I can only stabilize the array for so long, and you'll still have to activate it before returning to the other side to open the Gate. That's part of what's draining you, Auric, I know it! You're not indestructible."

"You'll do fine, Al," was the firm response. "I believe in you."

"General…" Al appealed. "You can stop this. Please. You could have stopped Ed and you didn't. Don't make that mistake again! I…I can't lose him again. We can't lose him again."

Roy felt like someone had just punched him in the gut, and he struggled to maintain his composure. He could feel Maes's eyes on him, and Hawkeye's too. Years of experience kept his face expressionless as he raised his eyes to meet the golden pair staring at his with a frightening intensity. An electric charge seemed to pass through the air between them carrying an understanding beyond the others. Finally, quietly, Auric spoke. "You have to let me fall, Roy."

He nodded slowly. "I never could hold you." _Later. Take care of yourself.

* * *

_

"Maes!" The colonel stopped, but didn't turn around. "What is it, Auric?" he asked brusquely. "If we're moving out in two hours, I have things that need doing, and you should be doing…whatever it is you need to do to prepare to open that Gate."

Auric stepped around and into his space, forcing him to look the Gatekeeper in the eye. "I need to know something. _Now_."

"What?"

"I need to know exactly what happened between the General…and Ed."

* * *

_The song, "Let Me Fall" is originally from the Cirque du Soleil album and show, "Quidam." The version I have in mind here, however, is from the self-titled debut album by Josh Groban, a lovely, talented young man who spent some time at one of my alma maters before pursuing his professional career. If you haven't heard this haunting piece, I highly recommend it, and any of Josh's other recordings. I was listening to this song when I started writing this story, and the song seemed to encapsulate both Auric's yearning to define himself as an individual and Ed's restless struggle to transcend the chains that bind him and his need to be free._


	11. Quintessence

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author Comment:

Apologies for the slight delay in updating, although under a week is pretty good, I do think! Like Auric, I've been a little under the weather, and I also have to study and work on a daily basis. Thank you to all those wonderful people who wrote me reviews, I read each and every one! And to those who have yet to review, please do – a little encouragement goes a long way.

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 11: Quintessence_**

As usual when the army said they were moving out in two hours, they really meant closer to six or seven, thought Havoc sourly as he ground out a cigarette under his boot. He ran a judicious eye over the men of his platoon mustered in the parade square, all of whom were sacked out against their gear, ready to go at a moment's notice, but doing what all experienced soldiers knew to do the moment the army let you stay in one place undisturbed for more than five minutes – catch some sleep. Because you never knew when you would get the chance again. Good men, all of them. Handpicked and discreetly manoeuvred through the military bureaucracy into units close to Mustang, in essence creating a corps of men within the ranks that the General could call on when the time came. They weren't just drawn from the enlisteds and non-coms, of course – he could see officers he vaguely recognized coming and going from the offices that the General and Colonel Hughes were currently cloistered in as they hammered out battle plans. Mustang always planned well ahead.

He knew he should be getting some sleep as well, but his nerves were too keyed up after that briefing where the boss had gone head to head with the General, and then pulled a new military advantage out of his…well, anyway, it was a relief to know someone else thought the Fuhrer's brilliant strategy of simply throwing more bodies at the enemy was idiotic.

"Lieutenant."

Speak of the devil. "Hey boss. What are you doing out here with us grunts? Shouldn't you be in there helping the General plan or whatever? Where's Al?"

Auric waved a hand vaguely back in the direction of the east wing. "Al's busy with his little hand-picked group of alchemist draftees, trying to give them a crash course in what to do when the world is blowing up around you. Best of a bad lot, in my opinion…I'd lay odds on them not lasting more than two minutes. And Mustang and Hughes don't need my help with strategy. They just need me to do what I do best when the time comes. But I couldn't sleep. So I thought I'd wander about a bit, get a feel for the group. I don't like going into a fight without knowing who's watching my back."

"Gotcha." Havoc nodded. "But you don't have to worry, boss, they're all good men. Loyal to the General – they all worship him, even the officers. And that's saying a lot, considering the egos most of them have."

"He must be an easy sort of man to love," Auric remarked dryly.

Havoc shot him a curious look at the odd tone in his voice, then shrugged, the barest life of a shoulder. "Yeah, and that's just the men. You should see the women throw themselves at him. The Captain's been in love with him for years. Not that he's noticed." He swore at himself as the Gatekeeper cocked a gleaming brow at him, realizing that he had allowed a trace of bitterness to slip out.

Auric sighed to himself. This appeared to be his night for hearing confessions, which was really quite ironic considering his atheism in both the spiritual and emotional realms. "Don't tell me. You love her." A brooding silence was his only answer. "Have you considered telling her?"

Havoc shook his heard miserably. "She'd shoot me. Besides, the General's the only man who exists in her world."

The Gatekeeper ran a weary hand over his face as he struggled to stay civil. "The one-sided nature of the affair is generally not conducive to an actual _relationship_, Jean. And while I'm sure he has many…winning qualities, my suspicion is that she continues to fixate on him because as long as she's 'in love' with someone unattainable, she doesn't have to risk loving someone who might actually love her back and make her vulnerable." He took in the glazed look in Havoc's eyes, and threw up his hands. "I'm just saying, I think she's scared. So go be her friend and show her she doesn't have to be. Understand?"

"So you think she might not shoot me?" Havoc said finally.

One corner of Auric's mouth twitched. "You're about to go into battle. Would it make a difference if you got shot now or later?"

The Gatekeeper watched Havoc tromp off determinedly. He wasn't entirely certain Havoc's timing was the greatest, but what the Hell, he was a believer in honesty being the best policy. He supposed he had that in common with Ed, although he didn't think he would have done exactly what his younger self had apparently done. At least the confidence that Maes had reluctantly divulged explained why Roy had been part of his pre-Aleph memories. And the odd jealousy and pain he had detected in the older man's eyes when he had stumbled across Auric comforting Riza. And, he admitted to himself, the almost electric charge that he felt whenever he caught Roy's gaze in an unguarded moment.

"He'll never say anything to you about it, you know," Maes had said.

"I know," Auric had responded absently, still absorbing what he had just heard. "I wouldn't either, if our positions were reversed. It would hurt too much."

Maes had smiled crookedly at that. "You two are quintessentially the same. Probably the reason you fought like wild creatures from the get-go. And the reason you were drawn to each other." He nodded at Auric's start. "Oh yes. You both suffer from a surfeit of self-confidence and an inexplicable unwillingness to let anyone help you shoulder your burdens. Until you met each other, I doubt either of you had ever come across your equal for either pride or obstreperousness. You could both benefit from your own advice and learn to let go every once in a while – there's a reason it's called _falling_ in love."

Auric had snorted uncomfortably. "Please, Maes, don't go all hearts and flowers on me. It sounds like it was just the one night, and under peculiar circumstances. Neither Roy nor Ed was thinking straight, and even if Ed hadn't disappeared, chances are nothing much would have come of it."

Maes had looked at him with a mixture of pity and irritation. "You're a fool if you choose to believe that. And he's a fool for not telling you himself."

A cold gust of wind blew through the square. Auric huddled deeper into his cloak, brooding. "We are all fools in love," he whispered softly into the wind. "A pretty pickle of a problem you've gotten us into, Ed."

* * *

"You have your orders, gentlemen," said Roy quietly. Sombre salutes greeted this announcement and the officers began to file out of the room. Two-thirds of them were headed with their units to the front-lines, there to reinforce the line. The remainder of his forces would be striking from behind enemy lines via the Gate, and as such had been selected for maximum deadly force.

The Flame Alchemist would, of course, be going with the second group.

Hughes stuck his head into the room. "He's left to set the beacon, sir. We're up." Roy nodded and got up, pulling on his gloves and double-checking to be certain he was carrying two other spare pairs in two separate places. His eyes met Maes's and he didn't need to be psychic to know the thought passing through his friend's mind: Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more. His friend fell into step beside him, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. "General. I think I should stay behind with Auric, he can teleport me with him afterwards."

"He can take care of himself," Roy said tersely. "Or perhaps he'd prefer to have Captain Hawkeye stay."

Maes put a hand out to stop him. "Stop bringing your hurt pride into this, Roy. You saw Al's face – you know this Gate is dangerous for Auric, and we don't even know why it's draining him so severely. Besides, if he's seriously injured, we'll have a hell of a time covering a retreat."

"There _is_ no retreating this time, Maes," was the grim response. "This is it. We win, or Amestris falls. You know that as well as I."

"Are you so willing to lose Auric simply because you've lost Ed?"

"You're out of line, _Colonel_," snapped Roy. Maes simply looked at him. He sighed. "Fine. Do what you want. Armstrong can take your unit until you get there. Oh, and Colonel…."

"Yes, General?"

A glint of bitter humour flickered in the dark eyes. "My mother used to say, 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours; if not…it was never meant to be.' Which scenario do you think this situation falls under?"

* * *

It was still dark, the sky above glittering with the chilly light of the stars in the hours before dawn. A soldier shifted uneasily and was reprimanded with a curt word by his platoon leader. Another minute passed, and then there was the barest whisper of air and Auric was suddenly standing there before them, a few wisps of golden hair floating lightly about his face from the speed of his passage. "Al's got the array stabilized," he said briefly. "Let's do this before I come to my senses and have nothing to do with it. Or you."

"We're at the mercy of your timing," Roy pointed out testily.

"Oh, so _now_ you need me and not your precious alchemists," muttered Auric darkly. He ignored the momentary look of surprise that passed over the General's face and suppressed the strange ache beneath his breastbone, knowing he had to maintain his connection to the array all those miles away. No beads this time to help him focus, but he had never really needed them anyway. Keeping his concentration on the beckoning array, he gathered himself, bringing his hands together in a sharp clap before casting them wide. Amidst a sudden intake of breath as his audience reacted to the familiar gesture, a small whirlpool of light formed. Little more than a pinprick at first, it swelled rapidly as he concentrated his will upon the energy nexus, quickly becoming wide enough for four men to step through it abreast. The Gatekeeper lifted his head, smiling a wolfish smile of satisfaction, and the word of power cracked out into the frigid stillness. "_Kai_!"

In an instant the Gate's swirling surface had cleared in obedience, and suddenly there were the sounds of artillery fire lighting up an unfamiliar night sky, and hilly terrain, and Al's anxious face through the frame of the Gate. Auric grinned reassuringly at the worried alchemist, then turned slightly to address the General. "You'd better hurry. Al won't be able to keep his end open for long."

Roy nodded brusquely. "Move out!" came the command, and immediately the ranks of men began to file through at a brisk trot. Auric gritted his teeth as a surge of energy displaced by the mass transfer coursed through his body, sending him to his knees and forcing him to brace himself with his palms pressed to the cold ground. Not too bad so far, he thought with a fleeting optimism that quickly faded as another wave of energy surged through the Gatestream and threw his body into spasms. Hmm. Actually, come to think of it, this really sucked. And then all coherent thought was gone as he gave his mind over to controlling the twisting Gatestream that bent to his will.

Maes hovered worriedly as officers and non-coms chivvied their men through the Gate at a near-run. The Gatekeeper's face was deathly pale and his hair hung lank about his face, damp and matted with sweat that ran down his face in rivulets and dripped onto his hands, which were bloodied from digging into the hard packed dirt surface of the parade ground as he fought to stay conscious and focused. Without another Gatekeeper, the task of controlling the Gatestream fell solely on Auric's shoulders, and the effort it was taking became clearer with every passing second. His chest heaved, bringing up blood, but still the Gatekeeper made no sound of protest, merely turning his head to spit and take in a shuddering breath. Unable to stand idly by any longer, Maes almost moved forward, wanting to do something, anything to help, but checked himself as Roy knelt by Auric's side, putting his hand on Auric's shoulder. From his vantage point, Maes could see the surprise on Auric's face and the indefinable emotion shimmering in Roy's eyes. For a moment, time seemed to stop. And then explosions could be heard in the distance. The reinforcements must have reached the frontlines and begun their diversionary assault, thought Maes. And so it begins….

The Gate shook, contracting for a moment before reluctantly dilating back to its original size as Auric's eyes suddenly blazed as if lit by a fire within, making his pallor all the more ghastly by contrast. His bruised hands dug deeper into the dirt as if drawing strength from the earth itself. Hawkeye's dust-streaked face appeared in the Gate. "General! If we're going to do this, it has to be now!"

Roy hesitated an instant, and in that moment Auric collapsed, his arms giving way as he fell sideways bonelessly into Roy's arms, barely conscious. "Shit. Guess this is it. You have to go now, General. I've done my part…now you go do yours."

Maes moved forward now and gently took Auric from Roy's arms. "I'll look after him, Roy. You have to go now." Roy didn't move, his eyes fixed on Auric's face. "General." Still no answer. "Flame Alchemist!" the Colonel barked, and reflexively Roy's head snapped up, eyes still wide with shock and hurt and denial. "You have to go now," Maes repeated softly. "Or all this will have been for nothing."

"Will you quit with the dramatic farewells and just go, you _bastard!_" snarled the blonde Gatekeeper suddenly, lurching upwards and shoving his face into Mustang's. "We don't have _time_ for this and this Gate won't hold forever, you know!" He fell back, teeth clenched as another shudder racked his body. "Go now, _asshole_, or I'll get up and kick your butt through myself!"

Maes's jaw dropped and he stared at the blonde man in his arms as if he had just turned into a chimera with three heads. Roy's expression was similarly stunned…and then he smirked, very deliberately. "Well now…we wouldn't want you to have to do that in your current condition, would we? Might be a real strain, having to reach so high."

Auric summoned the energy to glare at the General. "Who are you calling short?" he gasped out, but the faintest hint of a smile was on his cracked lips. "I'll get you for that…later. Go. _Now_." The Gate wavered as if to underscore his words. Roy nodded and stood, running lightly through the Gate. He turned to look back and Maes felt Auric shift in his arms, raising his head. "Watch Al for me!" he called faintly. "Oh, and…take care of yourself, Roy." The Gate remained open just long enough for Maes to catch the fleeting look of understanding that passed over his friend's face before Auric's body jerked once more and a strangled moan finally passed his lips. Maes could feel the energies Auric had just released thrumming through the ground as they dissipated. Auric's head lolled against Maes's arm. He looked down.

"What was that about?"

"He seemed like he needed a kick in the pants," Auric mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut. "And I figured Ed would be the best person to do it. He's the reason we're in this mess, after all."

* * *

_**Quintessence** is the essential presence of something or someone, the living thing itself that animates or gives something its deepest characteristics. The Quintessence partakes of both the Above and the Below, the mental as well as the material. It can be thought of as the ethereal embodiment of the life force that we encounter in dreams and altered states of consciousness. It is the purest individual essence of something that we must unveil and understand in order to transform it. Similarly, **Soul** in alchemy is the passive presence in all of us that survive through all eternity and is therefore part of the original substance of the universe. Ultimately, it is the One Thing of the universe. Soul is considered beyond the four material elements and thus conceptualized as a fifth element or Quintessence._


	12. Holding Out For A Hero

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

* * *

**_Chapter 12: Holding Out For A Hero_**

Auric shifted his shoulders uncomfortably in the unaccustomed folds of his new coat. The coat a certain _Colonel_ was making him wear. At least he had been allowed to take a knife to the sleeves of the jacket in order to ensure that his gauntlets would be unencumbered by the excess fabric. He tested them out experimentally, then flexed his knees slightly, testing out the range of motion of the garments. Good. Everything in order, and at least he had been allowed to keep his own boots. The same could not be said for his hair, which was pulling at the back of his head in an unaccustomed manner. He knew it was just old habits dying hard, but it was a change all the same, and he wasn't over-fond of change in his personal habits, given that everything else in his life seemed determined to stay in a constant state of flux. Maes paced around him once more, eyes narrowed, finger rasping the side of his beard thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes. The unbuttoned open-necked look suits you – very dashing. Hmm. That sai tucked in your belt in back is ruining the line of the coat, I don't suppose you could…"

"No," said Auric flatly. He had barely had two hours of rest since closing the Gate, his bones ached, the coffee was cold, and he missed his old garb. He didn't feel terribly inclined to compromise at the moment.

"Oh well, I suppose once we're in the middle of the fight it won't matter," sighed Maes. "Comfortable?"

Auric shot him an irritated glare. "No. How would you feel in this get-up? I'm practically a walking target!" But he knew that wasn't entirely true. The real problem bothering him was that these clothes felt…too comfortable. Too familiar. Like he'd put them on a hundred times before, even though they were brand new. They even fit reasonably well…wait a minute…he looked accusingly at Maes. "You planned this all along, didn't you?"

"I did consider the possibilities early on, yes," admitted Maes. "This is a war, we need all the advantages we can get, even the psychological ones. Alphonse was able to give me your sizes. Besides, you said it yourself: Ed is the best person for a certain sort of job."

Auric growled. "I'm not _Ed_. And I hate playing the hero."

"You could have fooled me back there. Anyway, perception is nine-tenths of reality," said Maes smoothly. "At least you look the part and _do_ know how to use alchemy. Master of Disguise or not, I couldn't possibly pull this off…the one time Roy tried to teach me basic alchemy, I nearly made a hole in the floorboards, and it took Gracia days to get the smell out of the rooms. Not to mention that my craggy good looks just don't go with your crowning glory."

Auric snorted, running a hand over his golden hair self-consciously. "I didn't exactly get to pick my hair out of a line-up, so I wish people would stop talking about it."

"It's one of your most distinguishing features, _Auric_," Maes pointed out. The Gatekeeper looked mulish and Maes sighed. "Look…people need heroes. Heroes make us believe…the impossible is achievable. And you just happen to be the right man in the right place at the right time. I'm sorry. Deal with it," he said, not unsympathetically, sounding less like a soldier and more like the father that he was.

"Was the General in on this?" the blonde man asked resignedly.

Maes shook his head. "I couldn't tell him – he would never have agreed to it." For some reason that made Auric feel marginally better. "Now remember, our advantage lies in surprise and the offensive."

The Gatekeeper rolled his eyes in exasperation, then winced at a sudden spike of pain in his head as he fought off a wave of dizziness. "Please. Surprise is one of the Guild's key strengths. And I'm sure 'Ed' will be able to handle the second half of that statement, the little loudmouth. Although I must admit there's something quite refreshing about his candour."

"I meant offensive as opposed to a defensive approach, but you're probably right either way," Maes said, smiling nostalgically. "Oh, I nearly forgot – the finishing touch!" Auric looked sceptically at the things being flourished before his face.

"I can't wear those things. It would impair my feel for my weapons."

"You have to, at least initially – it's part of the package!" argued Maes. "Look, you just have to be seen in them and then you can take them off, all right? Now we have to get going. Ready?"

Auric patted himself down in a final check, then drew his sais and twirled them experimentally, casting a keen eye down the new runes on the blades and hilts. "Yes…oh, wait. Didn't the last wireless communication from the front say that it looked like storm clouds were gathering?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"I almost forgot my present for the General. I'm going to need you to sacrifice two…no, make it three of those silver photo-frames on your desk. And get me some coffee while you're at it, won't you? As hot as you can make it, and a splash of whiskey, if you've got some."

Maes paled. "Not Alicia's photographs!"

* * *

Cold. So cold.

Roy loathed being cold. He knew that in theory, cold didn't technically exist – it was simply a word used to describe the absence of heat. But he knew better. Cold was a living thing, a spiteful, insidious little creature that slowly but surely worked its way into your bones. He hated the way it seemed to seep in through the heaviest winter uniforms, curling its way around the ends of sleeves and up under coats, making his hands feel slick and numb and stiff and _cold_ all at once. And his gloves weren't exactly helping, being designed for another purpose.

_Snap!_ And another squad of Drachman soldiers went down in flames screaming. Roy hadn't even turned his head to look. He knew what he'd see all too well, and anyway, he had an image to maintain for the men. They didn't need to see agony and pain and guilt written all over their leader's face. Traits normally considered commendable, desirable even, in a leader – empathy, compassion, a moral compass – had no real place on the battlefield once committed to a course of action. You simply carried out your duties, because there were comrades depending on you, people who could die if you hesitated a second too long. Better blood on your hands than a grave at your feet. Or so he told himself as the oath he had made long ago on a battlefield in Ishbal burst into flames and crumbled into ash.

_Snap!_ And just like that, the artillery battery that had been covering the rear of the Drachman forces went up in flames, the exploding cases of ammunition making a particularly satisfying sound as they detonated. He had been careful to leave a few cases untouched, and he could see the non-coms breaking into them, handing out spare cartridges and grenades to the men. The sounds of war formed a thick fog around the dark-haired man, swirling and eddying, now this thing coming into focus, now that. Soldiers locked in hand-to-hand combat of the deadliest sort. Glowing arrays on gloves and ground. The sharp, acrid smell of gunpowder mingled with the bloody smell of death and the stink of burning flesh. And through it all walked the tall figure of the Flame Alchemist, austere and untouchable, his greatcoat billowing about him. Men would later sing songs and tell tales of those eyes like burning coals in that cold expressionless face, of how he had dealt death easily, almost unconcernedly, with a snap of his fingers. "Our General" they would whisper proudly. "He was terrible in his righteousness. He saved us all. He was a hero."

It made Roy want to vomit. Or perhaps it was merely the cold. A storm was coming. He only hoped it would hold off long enough for him to see this through.

A runner came up, panting. "Sir! We're nearly at the front, sir, the enemy is trapped between our two forces."

The General nodded absently. "Pass the word for the Earth Moving and Strong Arm Alchemists, we're going to need them up here."

"Yes, sir!" and the boy ran off again. Boy? That runner was at least twenty, after all. Yet he seemed so very young. Youth was all relative, after all. He himself was considered ludicrously young for his rank – war had a way of thinning out the military hierarchy swiftly. And he had known another pair of boys who had seemed far too old when they were half that boy's age. One of whom was coming up off to the side right now.

Alphonse Elric's round face was covered in sweat and his gloves were spattered with dirt and mud from his exertions. He wiped his forehead raggedly with the back of his hand, leaving a brown smudge across his brow. "General, you needed me?"

"Yes, Major. We're going to try and close the gap between our two forces." He didn't need to say anything more as Al's face hardened and he nodded. They were silent for a moment, contemplating what lay ahead. Finally Al stirred.

"Sir…you haven't heard from…Colonel Hughes, have you?"

Roy knew what he had really meant to say. "No. But Auric was still conscious when I left them. He's the strongest person I know, Alphonse. He'll make it." Al bit his lip.

"General." Armstrong had come up behind them, strangely silent for such a large man. His pink cheeks were streaked with tears, but he held himself rigidly, only the barest twitching of his moustache betraying the pain his gentle soul was in. Roy nodded, smiling, but there was no joy in it.

"Well then, gentlemen, shall we?"

* * *

"Well, that was something different!" gasped Maes as Auric released his shoulders none too gently. After they had attempted unsuccessfully to contact the secondary force the General was leading, the Gatekeeper had teleported them to the site where he had initially set the beacon, which now resembled a trampled cow-wallow, so torn up and decimated was the landscape around them. Auric dropped to one knee, feeling sick at the carnage around him. He and Alp always used to take it in turns to be the one at the front, because otherwise it just grew to be too much – the smell, the blood, the pain. Pushing his feelings aside determinedly, he scanned the area with sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing, reminding Maes of a predator on the hunt, golden eyes glowing like a cat's in the darkness.

"Seems like the General's done a pretty good job of clearing a path," Auric said neutrally, standing and walking off decisively. "This way. We'll have a job to catch up with them, are you up for it?"

"You couldn't just teleport us there?"

"I could if I knew where _there_ was," said Auric with some asperity. "Unless you'd like me to just drop you in the middle of the frontlines?" He stiffened as a chilly breeze whipped about them. "That storm's moving faster than we thought," he murmured. "It'll be here just before daybreak."

Maes's face darkened. "Let's move, then."

* * *

The Flame Alchemist stifled a cry of pain as a boot landed on his ribs. Again. "Ah, Mustang. My faithful dog. How could you keep secrets from your Fuhrer?" His tormentor sounded almost genial, as he always did.

"Traitor!" Roy hissed, barely lifting his head from the muddy, wet ground. That earned him another leisurely kick. He was starting to become delirious from the pain, he knew – his vision was beginning to blur. Or was that simply the rain? The storm had rolled in over the battlefield about half-an-hour ago, just before dawn, dark rain clouds that opened up and released sheets of freezing sleet and rain, putting out flames and rendering the infamous Flame Alchemist…utterly defenceless. Armstrong and Alphonse Elric had done their best to take up the slack, but the Amestris soldiers were understandably unnerved by the sudden loss of one of their major advantages. Still, they had pressed on bravely, and for a time it had seemed as though all was not lost. And then the Homunculi had appeared.

Mustang fought to stay awake. Breathing hurt – he was pretty sure he'd fractured a few ribs, but at least he knew hadn't punctured a lung if he was still able to inhale. Not that it mattered, really, since the probability that he was going to die was pretty high – actually, more of a certainty, all things considered.

The Fuhrer. Not just _in league_ with the Homunculi, but _one of them._ The alchemist was surprised at how calmly he was reacting to the news – perhaps Auric's latent fatalism was starting to wear off on him. Or his body could be going into shock. He wondered if he would see the blonde Gatekeeper again and decided not. He wondered if he would see Edward Elric again in whatever world waited beyond this one and decided eventually. Surely one of the fringe benefits of the afterlife had to be the return of one's memories?

How could anyone have known? The real war wasn't between Drachma and Amestris. The conflicts had been stirred up by the Homunculi for their own purposes to weaken the humans they simultaneously despised and wished to be. And to obtain more lives to strengthen the incomplete Philosopher's Stones that gave them life. Roy closed his eyes. No wonder Edward Elric had been an atheist. He was finding it hard to have faith in the goodness of any higher power at the moment. He could dimly hear the screams of men dying, and a warm darkness began to wash over him. He welcomed it as a respite from the cold rain pelting down onto his helpless body, although the numbing chill did lessen the pain from the gouges in his side made by Lust's claws as she had dragged and dumped him unceremoniously at the feet of her leader.

"What's this?" the Fuhrer – no, _Pride_ – asked mockingly, toeing Roy's face with the tip of his boot, jerking him rudely back to harsh reality. "Don't fall asleep on me now, Flame, I want you to see this. The beginning of the end for your beloved Amestris."

Roy turned his head stiffly. He could just make out Alphonse Elric struggling with Envy, and as he watched, the Homunculus altered his form as was his wont. The alchemist's face twisted in revulsion as Envy grinned at him with Ed's smile and hair and…no, not Ed's eyes. Never Ed's eyes, because eyes were the windows to the soul, and that was the one thing no Homunculus could ever feign. Pride shook his head wistfully. "Pity the other Elric boy has to die as well, such a pretty boy. No doubt he was the one who got you behind the Drachma lines, eh? Very impressive, you'll have to tell me how he did that. Of course, we could keep him around and make him tell us himself, but it does so ruin the morale of soldiers to see their heroes fall in dramatic fashion – a very useful psychological tactic, eh, General? Remind me to write that down in the Officer's Handbook, won't you?"

This was all his fault, thought Roy hazily. Should have been more observant, should have known there was something more wrong with the Fuhrer than just a general monomania, should have moved faster to take power and stop all this…. "Coulda, woulda, shoulda," said an irritable voice in his head, and he almost snorted in amusement as he recognized it as the elder Elric brother's voice. "Get off your lazy ass and do something about it, bastard Colonel!"

I can't, Roy answered back. I'm so tired, Ed. And I've missed you so much. I didn't know how much I could miss you until you were gone.

Yes, you can. Al needs you. And help is on the way. Just believe.

Believe? The delirium must be affecting you too, since you're only a figment of my imagination. Since when has Edward Elric been a believer?

I didn't say to believe in God, came the snide reply. Believe in _me_. Hold out for a hero.

Heroes are for children and fairy-tales, Ed.

It's always darkest before the dawn, bastard, didn't anyone ever tell you that? Look, the dawn is breaking.

Roy lifted his head. Streaks of red really were beginning to stain the horizon, fighting to break through the dark storm clouds that shrouded the battlefield. Pride was watching Envy slowly get the upper hand in his tussle with Alphonse, Mustang temporarily forgotten for the moment. Slowly, painfully, Roy uncurled one hand from its protective grasp at his ribcage, and quietly began to trace one fingertip in the mud. So he didn't have fire to work with - he was still a State Alchemist, wasn't he? An array slowly formed under his hand, a little one – size actually didn't matter, much to most novices' surprise. Larger arrays were simply easier to draw, but as long as the symbols were clearly written, a small array could be every bit as powerful. He wiggled his fingers experimentally, then summoning the last vestiges of his strength, let his hand fall onto the array.

Envy yelped in surprise as the ground surged beneath him, breaking his hold on Alphonse. Taking advantage of this godsend, Al leapt away and clapped his hands together, transmuting the first thing that came to hand, which happened to be a fallen rifle. Bringing his arm back, he tossed the newly formed harpoon at the surprised Homunculus, pinning him to the ground. Envy writhed furiously. "Fool! This won't hold me for long!" he snarled as he wrenched at the shaft, ignoring the tears in his flesh as he struggled to yank himself free.

Pride turned to look down at a faintly smirking Mustang. "Why, General, I didn't know you had it in you. Such a noble gesture, once more trying to play the hero, but ultimately, so…futile." He deliberately stepped on Mustang's hand, politely ignoring the stifled scream of pain as he ground his heel in deep. His victim mumbled something, near unconsciousness. "What was that, Flame? I can't quite hear you, I'm afraid. All this moaning and groaning, you know."

Roy licked his cracked lips, savouring the sting of blood and tears on tongue. "I said…I'm not playing hero. I'm…holding out for one." The puzzled look on Pride's face was worth the effort it had taken for him to articulate clearly.

"You're starting to annoy me, General," said the Homunculus ominously. "I rather think I'd like to see you suffer." He drew his sabre ostentatiously. "Perhaps your hand first?" The blade shone redly in the rays of the rising sun as he lifted it high, and Roy shut his eyes, waiting for the blow…that never came. Instead there was a cry of pain, and he opened his eyes in confusion, only to see Pride staggering back clutching at the left side of his face, where a dagger of some kind had pierced his eye patch and embedded itself up to its hilt, the tip of it protruding out the back of the Homunculus's head.

"You know, the problem with all you dictator-types is that you talk too much," a hoarse voice commented dryly.

Roy half-turned his head to look at his saviour – and stopped breathing. Perhaps he had merely dreamt the last few minutes and he really had died. Because standing there, glowing in the morning light – stood Edward Elric. His golden hair and eyes sent up sparks where the sunlight hit them, his braid flying out behind him, red coat flapping in the breeze as he thrust his hands into his pants pockets in an insouciant manner, a cynical smile on his lips. "Ed?"


	13. Dawn

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Um. Long, long chappie. Much, much rewriting. Many, many characters wanting their say and even then some of them will have to wait for later chapters. Please, please review. And a huge THANK YOU to all of you who sent me PMs and wrote reviews to tell me that you were enjoying the story, you don't know how much good that did a soul!

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 13: Dawn_**

Dust and smoke and gunpowder everywhere, settling on the ground, and on tongues and teeth and in hair and uniforms, obscuring vision and numbing perception. This was just like Ishbal all over again, thought Maes Hughes, blinking blearily through rain-fogged glasses, his feet sliding about under him in the slimy mix of mud and gore underfoot as he picked his way through the ruts and trenches dug into the ground in search of his unit. Left foot, right foot, a never-ending slog that made your muscles hurt because they just couldn't settle into any kind of rhythm as they fought to keep you upright. All around him men were struggling with each other, intent only on survival, and he was forced to draw his sidearm a couple of times and put a bullet through the head of some poor soul whose only sin was being here. Yep, Ishbal all over again, except that Roy wasn't next to him. But this time that was all right, because Auric would watch out for Roy, he knew he would, and not just because of that damned contract, either. He only hoped Roy wouldn't incinerate him when he discovered the ruse his old friend had dreamt up. Perhaps if he threatened to will all his pictures of Alicia to the Flame Alchemist….

"Sir!" and a familiar face appeared out of the murk to his right. It was Major Armstrong, looking much the worse for wear. While the absence of his shirt wasn't unusual, the rips and gashes that marred his physique certainly were, as was the hangdog expression he was wearing. Even the little blonde curl that normally hung proud and tight on his forehead was limp and bedraggled.

"Major! Good to see you're all right," said Maes in relief. "I thought we'd arrived too late. Auric's gone off to look for Alphonse. Where's the General?"

Armstrong's plump pink face folded up on itself, and his moustache quivered ominously. "We…lost him."

Maes gaped dumbly, a part of him refusing to hear what Armstrong was saying, trying to convince himself that he had misheard the man over the screams of the wounded and the dying. "Lost him? You mean he's dead?" No. No. Roy couldn't die at the hands of some lowly Drachman soldier, he was the _Flame Alchemist_, for crying out loud, the sole reason Maes was still _here_ in this goddamned army. To watch that arrogant idiot's back and make him Fuhrer. To help him change the world.

"No…the Homunculi took him to the Fuhrer," hiccupped Armstrong. "Alphonse-_kun_ went after him and hasn't come back."

"What do the Homunculi have to do with the Fuhrer?" blurted Maes in confusion. And then a horrible, sickening comprehension hit him like a ton of bricks as with a neat, tidy click, all the puzzle pieces fell into place. The sudden hostilities by Drachma. The claims from both sides that it was the _other_ party that had violated the non-aggression pact first. The countless schemes to made by various factions to cast aspersions on Mustang's reputation and have him arrested - the multiple attempts on Roy's _life_, especially as the war had escalated and Roy's ceaseless machinations were sometimes all that stood between hundreds of men and certain death because of some foolish military stratagem dreamed up by the Fuhrer.

"He's one of them, sir," said Hawkeye softly, squelching up to them. She looked exhausted, and her eyes were red from the smoke in the air. Maes could dimly make out the remains of what looked like a company coming up behind her, and the recognizably lanky figure of Lieutenant Havoc with a glowing cigarette in his mouth motioning to a section to split off and form a defensive perimeter around the officers. How on earth that man was managing to keep it alight in this rain was beyond him. "The real enemy isn't Drachma. The Homunculi stirred up the war for their own purposes. We've had a hell of a time distinguishing friend from foe, because some of the men are remaining loyal to the Fuhrer and others were in league with him all along."

Armstrong nodded. "When the Homunculi attacked – they were obviously targeting the General and Alphonse. I saw Lust run him through with her claws, and with the rain…" he broke off, and for an awful moment Maes thought he was going to cry here, in the middle of the battlefield, in the middle of all this death, and he wanted to say something, anything to remind him that the men were watching and that as much as he might share Armstrong's fears they couldn't _do_ this right now, and then Major Alex Louis Armstrong straightened and lifted his chin high in that proud manner that had defined generations of Armstrongs in loyal service to their country and continued, "…the rain impaired the General's offensive capabilities, sir. I would have gone after him, but I felt it important to remain and rally our men so as not to lose our forward momentum. We've broken the back of the Drachman forces, sir. Lost about half our men in the process, but the line is still intact. We're focusing on containing the Drachman forces, and they haven't put up much resistance since the Homunculi revealed themselves – seems like they're starting to realize who the real enemy here is. Wounded are being evacuated to the MASH. Reports so far are coming in and it seems that there are still knots of fighting going on centred around a few of the Homunculi. We were planning to regroup and then send out a search and rescue party for the General and Major Elric."

"I should have gone with him," Hawkeye said bitterly. Havoc looked like he wanted to say something badly, but instead turned away, his shoulders slumping. Maes closed his eyes for the briefest instant as his friend's face flashed before his eyes, then let out a shuddering breath, swallowed hard and pulled his shoulders back, the very image of an officer very much in command of the situation. He could literally feel the tension in the air lift fractionally, as the men recognized that the chain of command had been reinforced, but the weight on his shoulders seemed to have increased exponentially. How the hell did Roy do this all the time? He pushed the thought from his mind and forced a confident smirk onto his face.

"Good job, Major Armstrong," and he let his hand fall lightly on the big man's shoulder, feeling him relax in response. If they all lived through this, he was going to get Armstrong a promotion, sentimentality be damned. "I'm going to need you to lead that rescue party; if the Homunculi have the General, I very much doubt a regular team is going to do it. Are there any other alchemists available?"

Hawkeye shook her head bleakly, operational details at her fingertips as usual. "No, sir. The civilian draftees are mostly dead or severely wounded, and the few who are mobile are helping to contain enemy combatants and re-establish supply lines. None of them are particularly skilled in offensive warfare. Sir."

"You should stay here and take command, Colonel," rumbled Armstrong, who seemed to have been rejuvenated by Maes's praise. "The Armstrongs have a proud history of excelling at special operations. I can take a platoon out alone." A thought seemed to strike the State Alchemist. "What of Auric-_kun_? His abilities are strong, if untrained."

"Auric's…busy with something for me," hedged Maes. That earned him baffled looks all around, and Hawkeye was opening her mouth to press him further, when there was a choked cry from one of the sentries.

Havoc swore, dropping his cigarette. "Schmitty! Report!" Hawkeye had dropped to one knee protectively in front of Maes, rifle at the ready. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the early morning mist was making it difficult to see much more than a few feet. For a moment the only sounds were the sharp clicks of guns being cocked juxtaposed against the duller background roar of distant artillery fire. And then a sultry purr interposed itself into the group.

"Are those really guns or are you gentlemen just happy to see me?" The curvaceous figure of Lust sauntered negligently out of the mist smiling kittenishly as she wiped a bloody hand on her dress. Riza Hawkeye's face tightened and she raised her rifle, only to be stopped by Maes's hand pressing insistently on her shoulder. The Sin nodded amusedly at that. "I'd take the dear Colonel's advice, sweeting – you may be female, but you're no _woman_ and hardly a match for me."

"What have you done with General Mustang?" asked Maes coldly, eyes flickering over the Sin as he tried to find a weakness he could exploit. Come on, think, you're supposed to be the devious one…where the hell is Auric?

"Nothing…although I'd certainly welcome the opportunity to _do_ him," murmured Lust, tracing a fingertip thoughtfully over her collarbone suggestively. "Mmm. But selfish Pride is keeping him all to himself. He gets that way, you know. And Envy has some score or another to settle with whichever Elric brother it is you've dragged along. That boy is just too good at keeping grudges!" She smiled lazily. "So I thought I'd come play with you instead. Don't you feel special?" And without warning, she launched herself lithely at Maes, only to be thrown to the ground screeching as Hawkeye spun her rifle dextrously in her hands and planted the butt of it firmly into the Sin's stomach as she passed overhead. A nasty sneer crept over Lust's face as she stood easily, fingers lengthening into vicious claws. Riza Hawkeye glared back, unfazed.

"Major Armstrong, get the Colonel to safety! And find the General!" No one blinked at the fact that Hawkeye was giving an order to a superior officer and Maes found himself being plucked from the ground and buried against the vast bulk of Armstrong's body as the alchemist threw up a wall of dirt, forming a shield between the pair and the Sin.

Lust snickered. "No wonder the General never once noticed you, you're practically a man. Men don't like to be ordered about, darling, they like to be seduced by our feminine wiles. You really could stand to be a little less…frigid."

"Alpha Company, ready your rifles!" snapped Hawkeye stonily. "You have ten seconds to surrender, Homunculus."

The smile evaporated from Lust's face. "You are starting to _bore_ me, Captain."

"Five seconds."

With a hiss, the Sin sent lance-like fingers shooting towards Hawkeye who batted them aside with her rifle stock. The sudden motion caused her to slip and fall, and the rattled soldiers promptly opened fire on the Homunculus, creating a temporary distraction as Havoc rushed forward to shield Hawkeye. "Riza! Are you all right?" She coloured at the look in his eyes. His profession of love on the eve of battle had been embarrassing enough, but the naked honesty in his eyes was too much to deal with under the circumstances. He seemed to sense her discomfort as he pulled back quickly, extending an impersonal hand as she struggled to get up.

"Just the wind knocked out of me," she said sharply, taking his hand gratefully. It was warm and dry and oddly comforting. "Where is she?"

"The men have her – AH!" screamed Havoc as claws ripped into his back and lifted him bodily into the air. Riza stared up in horror as Havoc writhed helplessly, impaled on Lust's tines. The surviving men of the company were frantically reloading, but she knew there just wasn't enough time. The Sin smiled in a mockery of reassurance at her.

"Oh, don't worry. You didn't want this one anyway, did you? Poor little Riza, only wanting the one she can't have. Such a waste, this one's actually quite sweet. Perhaps I'll keep him for myself?"

And Riza Hawkeye suddenly decided she'd had quite enough for one day. Swiftly, calmly, she drew her sidearm, walked right up to Lust, and emptied the revolver point-blank into the Homunculus's head. Her actions had been so unexpected and matter-of-fact that no one, least of all the Sin, had time to react before the sounds of the last gunshot died away, leaving behind only the acrid smell of gunpowder. The Homunculus staggered, dropping Havoc as she clawed at her face, and Riza tossed aside her gun as she slipped her arms under his shoulders and heaved him to safety. "Jean? Are you all right?"

"Remind me…never…to piss you off…" he grinned weakly.

She smiled tremulously. "Well, then you'd better not die on me…I'm not one of your easy girlfriends. I expect to be wined and dined, you know."

"How touching," came the sneer. Lust was already straightening up, her face a parody of its usual sinister beauty as it regenerated before their eyes. "But I don't think either of you are going to live long enough to have to worry about that." She started towards them, teeth bared in a rictus grin – and then faltered as a cry of pain rang through the air. "Pride?"

All eyes turned in the direction of the sound. The heavy dawn mists seemed to be burning off despite the ongoing damp, and a few brave, if faint, beams of sunlight fought their way through the clouds to illuminate a ridge midway in the distance. Maes scrambled out from Armstrong's protective grasp and fought his way to a clear vantage point. He heard a gasp go up all about him as the men saw the Fuhrer stumble backwards, clutching at his face. The tall, broad figure of the Earth Moving Alchemist was silhouetted against the light as he stooped, cradling a man half-lying on the ground who could only be the General. And interposed between the Fuhrer and the two alchemists was a slight but easily recognizable figure. Even if the red coat flapping in the breeze hadn't telegraphed its identity to all and sundry, the shaft of sunlight that lit up hair that glinted pure gold screamed it aloud.

A ragged cry went up from the soldiers of Amestris, strengthening into a roar that fairly shook the ground. "It's the Fullmetal Alchemist!"

Maes grinned grimly, ignoring the stunned looks around him. "Give them hell…Fullmetal."

* * *

"Ed?"

The wistful hopefulness in Mustang's voice, so at odds with the man's normal air of cool invulnerability, tugged at Auric's conscience. Maes was so going to take the fall for this one when the truth came to light. But first, he had a job to do – a contract to fulfil - and the trained spy in him pushed aside the guilt and compassion that was Auric and nestled deeper into the character he had to play, that he'd heard so much about but had never actually met except by dreams and moonlight. Clothes maketh the man, he vaguely remembered Alp once laughing as they had stripped off beggar-man rags that had reeked to high heaven. And so he allowed himself to settle into the unaccustomed tightness of the coat around his shoulders, so different from the loose folds of his cloak, the heavy stiffness of his leather pants, the softness of the gloves against his skin as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, almost-but-not-quite slouching as he rolled his eyes irritably and stepped over the General's prone figure, subtly putting himself between the man and the Fuhrer. "Not now, bastard, I'm busy cleaning up your mess, and I'd better not hear any whining about a report later, either! Al, get the General out of here."

Auric held his breath. If anyone would see through the charade at this point, it would likely be Al – the younger man wasn't stupid, and he was very familiar with both the Gatekeeper and his brother. Any expression of doubt on his part and Auric would lose the psychological upper hand he was counting on. Fortunately, Al merely nodded obediently and made to move towards the General, only to pause as a thought seemed to occur to him. "Just a moment," he said softly – and turning around, violently backhanded Envy as the Sin tore himself free from the metal shaft pinning him to the ground. The Homunculus collapsed, knocked unconscious by the unrestrained force with which the normally placid alchemist had struck him, and Auric and Mustang gaped in shock as Al kicked him hard in the face, glaring down vengefully at the unmoving Sin. "That's for hurting my brother," rebuked the alchemist coldly, his voice laced with an unmoving steeliness that evoked memories of a much larger armoured silhouette. And then Al was turning back towards them, large grey eyes soft and worried as he knelt by the General and slipped a supportive arm under his shoulders as Auric flicked an amused eyebrow at him. He was pretty sure Alp would have done the same thing, having witnessed what had happened to the few idiots who had underestimated the wrath of the even-tempered Gatekeeper. Despite Al's gentle touch, Mustang hissed as the jagged ends of a broken rib rubbed against each other, his eyes cloudy with pain and shock.

"So the rumours of your demise were exaggerated, Fullmetal?" beamed Fuhrer King Bradley benevolently as he regained his balance, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that he had twenty-one inches of metal through his left eye-socket. He reached up and plucked the dagger out effortlessly, tossing it aside carelessly and stripping off his eye patch to reveal an ouroboros as his lips drew back in a caricature of a paternal smile. "And why, it seems you've learned a few thing while you've been AWOL. Daggers instead of spears now, eh? Ah, you were always a quick study, even when you were littler."

If he were completely honest with himself, Auric would have had to admit that his response wasn't _entirely_ attributable to staying in character. Denial could be a wonderful thing. "Who the _hell_ are you calling so _short_ that he wouldn't have to duck if a sword were swung at him because his head doesn't reach higher than your boot-tops, you _overgrown_, _pompous_ excuse for a despotic _troll_?" He luxuriated in the adrenaline rush that came with exercising his lungs, the electric lick in his veins that swept through his system washing away the clouds of pain and fatigue that had been plaguing him since the last Gate.

"Now, now, is that the way to address to your Fuhrer, Fullmetal?"

"What, you wanted me to write you a Memorandum Of Understanding?" snorted the blonde man. "Bureaucrats. Do you file requests for toilet paper in triplicate every time you crap, too, asshole?"

"Be careful, brother," warned Al as he carefully stood supporting Mustang, the older man leaning most of his weight on the younger. "He's a Homunculus too. _Pride._"

"Really," grunted Auric hostilely, filing that bit of information away under the "did _not_ see _that_ coming" category. Which, he had to admit, had been receiving many, many new submissions ever since he had woken up in that little room in Risembool. "Well, I guess that explains why you aren't dead yet then."

Pride shook his head sorrowfully. "Fullmetal, it breaks my heart to see you behaving this way. After all, it was I who welcomed you into our ranks."

"I _earned_ my place myself, you patronizing son-of-a-bitch," snarled Auric, and oddly enough felt genuine resentment bubbling up. Before he could examine the reason for this feeling more closely, however, another sensation, more familiar, more recent, began to make itself known. He frowned in confusion. It seemed to be coming from the Homunculus before him, and it felt like the energy beacon he used when opening a Gate. The Gatekeeper rifled feverishly through his near-photographic memory. What had Al and Mustang told him about these creatures? Named for the deadly sins, they had no souls…amazing regenerative abilities…in order for them to be able to mimic human form, they required fragments of an incomplete Philosopher's Stone…the lives lost in the stone provided energy….

_Energy_. Oh, my. Auric felt a lovely feeling begin to work its way up from his belly, like a nice warm bubble of pure smugness, and his golden eyes danced with a hint of malice as a broad smile spread over his face. "Al, get moving. Don't worry about me."

"You know what they say, about pride, Fullmetal," chuckled the Sin, and faster than the eye could follow, he had drawn his sabre and lunged at the slight youth. But just as quickly, Auric had ducked and rolled, coming gracefully up into a ready position, sais drawn. "What?" Pride asked in feigned concern. "No alchemy? I'm disappointed in you, Fullmetal. Have the intervening years caused you to lose your touch? Your certifications must be hopelessly out of date."

Mustang's head snapped up, and a grey light of understanding dawned in his eyes. Auric didn't meet his gaze, ruthlessly suppressing the bitter bile of guilt welling up in this throat. A hot wave of resentment surged up abruptly, railing against the threads of Fate that had led him to this moment in this place to be the cause of such disappointment, and he latched on to the redness of rage to parry the Sin's attacks, even as his mind dimly processed the roar of soldiers around them flinging themselves back into the fray with renewed vigour. They sang the name of the Fullmetal Alchemist on their lips like a prayer and an invocation, a war-cry, a hail to their hero who had returned in their hour of need. He was moving on pure instinct as he wove in a macabre dance with the Sin; slash, parry, block, attack, counterattack, recovery, blades going flick, flick, flick, flick…and then he caught the sabre in the tines of his sais and ripped it out of the Sin's hands, sending it flying through the air. Pride staggered back, and Auric sheathed his sais contemptuously, grinning wolfishly, his eyes glowing as he tossed his sweat-and-waterlogged braid back behind his shoulder. _Energy_….

Al stared at his erstwhile brother in fascination. The blonde man threw back his head and laughed. "You want alchemy, _mein Fuhrer_? I'll show you alchemy." And in a sudden swift rush he leaped forward, clapping his hands together and slamming his palms into the Sin's chest, fingers curling into fists as he yanked the Homunculus's face down to his. Pride's one good eye widened and he struggled desperately as he felt the energy draining from the Philosopher's Stone and into the human with the mocking golden gaze. He scrabbled blindly, grasping at the man's arms, and his mouth opened in a wordless cry as he felt not one but _two _flesh-and-blood arms. Auric smiled innocently. "Oops. You know what they say about _Pride_," and the Homunculus shrieked as he disintegrated into a sodden, oozing mass that shuddered and fell apart until it was indistinguishable from the other gore that decorated the battlefield. A dull brownish red stone made a sad, small splatter as it fell into the mud underfoot and crumbled into dust.

The Gatekeeper could feel the energy he had drawn from the Homunculus run buzzing and tingling through his blood, creating a feeling of light-headedness. He focused on pushing it down through his body and into the ground, letting the excess bleed off, but using some of it to replenish his worn-down reserves, savouring the feeling of…fullness. Of being recharged. Rejuvenated. Reborn. He stretched luxuriously, and cast a look of distaste at the quivering bloody mess at his feet.

"It goes before a fall."

* * *

_**Dawn: **(n) 1. The time each morning at which daylight first begins; 2. A first appearance, a beginning _

_(v) **dawned, dawning, dawns: **1. Become clear or enter one's consciousness or emotions, to begin to be perceived or understood_


	14. The Snake And The Cross

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

* * *

**_Chapter 14: The Snake And The Cross_**

Alphonse straightened up wearily, dusting his hands off as he eyed the structure he had just created. Finally satisfied with his handiwork, he nodded to the non-com standing behind him. "Lock up the prisoners, Sergeant." The man saluted the State Alchemist and moved off to the dispirited little group of POWs sitting on the ground a little distance away, and Al was turning in the opposite direction, heading back towards the main compound of military issue tents when a familiar silhouette caught his eye. A large, gnarled tree, completely denuded of its foliage and half-hidden from the camp by an outcropping of rock, was plainly visible from Al's vantage point, and reclining on a suitably sturdy branch about halfway up was a slight figure golden-haloed by the rising sun which was rapidly burning off the damp. Al regarded it bemusedly, then shrugged and trudged over. "Brother?"

One aureate eye opened reluctantly and peered down. "Hey, Al."

"What are you doing up there?"

"Thinking. And hiding from the others." As if to reinforce this position, a distinctive red coat had been rolled up and wadded into the crook of one of the neighbouring branches where it would be hidden from the casual observer. "The way everyone was carrying on after I took care of Pride, you would've thought I'd raised the dead or something _really_ impressive. Oh, sorry. Bad choice of words."

"That's all right, brother. And you know, I think it's more _your_ return from the dead that they're reacting to, not that it wasn't impressive when you disintegrated Pride. I think you even scared the rest of them off, at least for now."

"Good. Are we leaving now?" The voice was listless, and Al frowned.

"No, there are still isolated skirmishes going on, and even once those are settled, the border can't be left unguarded. But I'm sure we'll be returning to Central with the General soon. He's all right, by the way – the doctors have bandaged him up and he's already back in command." No reaction from the man above. Al cocked his head to one side thoughtfully, then, "Can I come up?"

A reluctant shrug. "Sure. Just be careful, a couple of the lower branches are rotted through." A hand extended down which Al took, even though he didn't really need the help. But sometimes people needed to give help, and the kindest thing to do in those cases was to accept it. He swung himself up agilely and scooted into a comfortable seat against the trunk of the tree, taking in the extended vistas offered by their elevated perch. From where he sat he could see the scarred and pitted earth that had been the frontline, and the humming hive of activity that was base camp. Runners darted to-and-fro briskly carrying messages between the tents, carefully avoiding the little groups of men sacked out in exhaustion in any free spot. The supply lines must have been re-established as well, as Al could see trucks trundling up and unloading supplies, and ambulances loaded with the wounded pulling away. His nose wrinkled as the wind changed ever so slightly and brought with it the oily feel and smell of burning flesh, and his eyes turned involuntarily towards the battlefield where soot-covered figures could be seen walking between the heaps of corpses with burning torches, cremating the dead swiftly to ensure that the filth of putrefaction did not endanger the living. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He shivered involuntarily, and it wasn't just the cold.

"Wow, brother. You do know how to find the, um, most extensive views."

His companion grunted. "Always good to get an idea of the lay of the land, although battlefields aren't really my thing. The moors, maybe, or even rolling meadows. Al…" there was a guilty, hesitant pause, and then he plunged on resolutely, "you _do_ realize…"

"…that you haven't actually regained your memories of being Ed? Of course I do," said Al gently. "But don't worry brother, I won't tell anyone until you and Colonel Hughes tell me to. And apart from the two of you and General Mustang, no one else even suspects."

Auric started in surprise and turned to face him, straddling the branch. "You know? Then why are you still calling me…?"

"Because you _are_," came the matter-of-fact answer. Al's clear gaze was fixed on his face, but there was no accusation in that pellucid regard, only a calm acceptance that simultaneously awed and humbled the target of his regard. "I finally realized it when you were fighting Pride to protect the General – and me. And yes," he held up his hand to forestall Auric's protestations that he was only acting a role, damn it, and he certainly couldn't care less about the General's safety, except that they had a contract, and…"I know Colonel Hughes asked you to take on the role of Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist for less than altruistic reasons. But don't you see, Auric? The clothes may just be a costume, but deep inside you _are_ Ed, in all the ways that matter. In the way you look out for me and those in need. In the way your presence gives people hope and strength. In the way you face things courageously head-on without thought as to the consequences for yourself." A flash of amusement lit his grey eyes. "So your language may be a little less colourful now…most of the time, anyway…but by just being…you're Ed, even if you go by another name."

The Gatekeeper looked troubled. "Al, who we are is defined by our memories. My memories as a Gatekeeper are what make me who I am here and now. Without Ed's memories and experiences, I can't truly _be_ him, even though I may look the part…and I don't want to feel like I should be." He made a small sound of frustration. "I'm not…I just…I'm sick of feeling like I'm a disappointment because I can't be someone else. I. Am. Me. _I'm not Ed._"

Al rolled his eyes and privately thought that a vast capacity for denial was another one of those traits that would stick with his brother for all time. "Auric, you still don't understand. You don't have to _be _Ed, you _are_ Ed." He shifted carefully in his seat, removing the tattered remains of his jacket and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, the cloth still shockingly white except where rips in his jacket had let soot and grime in. "Remember this?"

"The snake and the cross from my dream," Auric said softly. "How could I forget?" He reached out tentatively and traced the angry red outline standing out against Al's sweat-streaked arm. Al smiled and nodded. A soft breeze ruffled through his short hair and blew through Auric's heavy golden bangs, bringing a welcome breath of cool air.

"See, not all of your memories were lost. Did you ever look its symbolism up in that book you were reading the other night? The one by Major Armstrong's ancestor?" Seeing the confusion in Auric's eyes, the young alchemist continued, "Look, wing'd serpents represent volatile or active substances; wingless serpents represent fixed or passive substances. A crucified serpent represents the fixation of the volatile," and he pointed to the mark on his arm. "Clear so far? Now, the Soul in alchemy is the passive presence in all of us that survives through all eternity and is therefore part of the original substance or First Matter of the Universe. Alchemists also know it as the One Thing of the Universe. The other component of who we are is Spirit, or the active presence in all of us that strives toward perfection. Spirit seeks material manifestation for expression – it is that part of our personalities shaped by our experiences. Ultimately, it is the One Mind of the Universe. Okay?"

Auric nodded warily. He had the feeling he was being led down the path to a truth he did _not _want to hear despite having long suspected it. And judging from the look in Al's eyes, he knew that Auric knew it too. And Auric knew that Al knew that Auric knew. Damn, no wriggling out of this one. "You see what I'm getting at, don't you? The unity of soul – the cross - and spirit – the wing'd serpent - in the body is the fixation of the volatile. Which _you_ achieved for _me_ at great cost to yourself, first by binding my soul to the armour to ensure it would not be lost, and then by retrieving my body and reuniting it with my soul. But even when I didn't have my body, I was still Al. You always told me that. And that would only be possible if who I am – _who we are_ – as you put it, is determined deep down inside by our souls. The soul may be lost to this world through the Gate of Truth at death, but it cannot be destroyed, Auric. Your soul is Ed's, and there's an entire army out there who will _swear _that your body is too. I think that when the Gate of Truth put you into that other world, it took Ed's memories and started you over on a clean slate. And so lacking all your previous experiences to help define itself, your spirit manifested as Auric."

He paused to let his words sink in, then continued in that patient manner that made Alphonse Elric such a good teacher, "Ultimately though, each person's soul is immutable and unique, and that's why Homunculi don't – and can't – have souls. They are spirit manifest in body without soul, unstable, volatile, unfixed – and thus violate the laws of the Universe. Abominations, in other words. You, on the other hand, are who you always were – your spirit is just a little different, that's all. If you get your memories back eventually, it'll just be an evolution of who you are right now, and in the meantime, you can make new ones with us."

Auric looked mulishly at Al. He knew the alchemist was right, but there was a little ornery voice inside him that insisted on being obstreperous about it, and he suspected Al knew that, too, because he sighed resignedly, leaned over – and flicked Auric in the forehead. Hard. "Honestly, brother, you're just as stubborn as ever, and I've just about had it. You accuse us of being unable to let go and move past Ed, but you can't seem to let go of your hang-up about needing to _be_ Auric: Gatekeeper. Which is fine, but You. Are. Ed. Too. Fate is, remember? You can but change how you deal with it." Auric gaped as Al quoted the Gatekeeper saying back to him. No, _at_ him. Al's mouth quirked at the stunned expression on Auric's face. "Sorry to be disrespectful, brother, but if you don't stop _whining_, I'll hit you with a wrench. Winry's taught me well."

That earned him a surprised snort of laughter from Auric, and the tension seemed to slowly ebb from his posture as he capitulated and relaxed back in his seat. "_Touché_. Damn, you really do remember everything I tell you." Shrugging philosophically, "Well, if you're right, and I'm really Ed, then I can't believe you got married and I didn't get invited to the wedding. Who gave Winry away?"

Al blinked at Auric's mercurial mood swings, but decided to count his blessings. "General Mustang. He and Winry had a huge fight after you disappeared and that cleared the air between them. I think it was when she realized how much he genuinely cared about you and us that she finally forgave him for her parents. He took your loss really hard."

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," mumbled Auric, putting a hand over his eyes.

Al's eyes narrowed. Was Auric…blushing? "What do you mean?"

Auric told him. Al's face went completely blank. "So you mean, that night before you…when you said you were going to go tell the Colonel what you were planning…you and he…and he never told me?"

"Technically, it was Ed," Auric pointed out helpfully. "But in terms of this body, then yes. I try not to think too hard about it."

Al swallowed hard. "Do you remember…?"

"No."

"Then are you absolutely certain it happened?"

"I doubt Maes would lie about something this important. And it explains Mustang's behaviour perfectly."

Silence. Then, almost hopefully, "I don't suppose the two of you might just have…cuddled?"

Auric struggled manfully to stifle the hysterical giggle in his throat. "No. Even if Mustang would have, I doubt Ed was the cuddling type. I'm certainly not."

Al sat there digesting this new information. "Right." He nodded decidedly and made to descend from their aerie. "If you'll excuse me, brother, I'm going to go kill him now."

Laughing openly now, Auric put an arm out to stop him. "Al - it was four years ago. And from what I've been told, Ed was a willing participant!"

"You were too young to know any better!" huffed Al indignantly. "I can't believe Mustang would take advantage of that to seduce you! And isn't he _straight_?"

"Bi, or so I've heard," the Gatekeeper said nonchalantly, examining his fingernails in an elaborate display of unconcern. "Basically, he'll go either way if the bait is attractive enough." He batted his eyelashes playfully at his best friend and brother…his _brother_…he had to admit he liked the sound of the word. "And who could resist these eyes?"

"Please. Too much information for this happily married family man," said Al, shuddering. "Oh, the images in my head…I'm going to have trouble looking him in the face the next time I see him. If I don't still decide to kill him, that is." A pause, then, "I can't believe he didn't _tell me_! Or you, for that matter!" and Al poked Auric in the ribs crossly. Auric held up his hands in surrender, a smirk still playing about his lips, and after another annoyed glare Al felt a grin of his own beginning to tug at the corners of his own. "So. What about you?"

"What about me?" asked Auric defensively. "I'm not married. No kids. Guild rule. Hey, shouldn't we be getting back to camp to report in?"

"Don't change the subject. Are you attracted to General Mustang?" Al's eyes widened. "Oh! Is _that_ why he was so short with Captain Hawkeye after he found you comforting her the night of the party?"

Auric twitched. "Al…." Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, he snatched up his coat as he slid off the branch and dropped to the ground gracefully. Al scrambled to follow, although the younger brother opted to take a route with a few more handholds along the way. By the time he reached terra firma, Auric was shaking out his coat vigorously and refusing to meet Al's eyes. He gave the seal embroidered on the back of the coat a long, thoughtful look before seeming to come to a decisive resolution as he shrugged the coat on, yanking on his braid as he freed it from his collar and settled the fabric of the coat more comfortably around his shoulders. Al watched, recognizing his brother's technique for avoiding uncomfortable subjects in every jerky motion. A grin split his face.

"You _are_!"

"Am not! He's a pain in the butt – and I meant that metaphorically, gutter-brain!" the Gatekeeper added hastily as Al clapped an hand to his mouth and turned purple with suppressed laughter. "Ed's right, he is a real bastard. He makes snide comments about my height, pushes me to do things I don't want to do, and what is with that annoying, insinuating smirk that seems permanently fused to his face?" Auric groaned. "I will _concede_ in the short time I've known him, he's also been an ally. And I respect his mind and abilities, his courage and cunning, and the way he pushes everyone to the limits of their potential – and beyond. And…."

"And?" Al prompted.

"He's very handsome," admitted Auric reluctantly. "But he's also completely hung up on Ed, and seems to be carrying around an excessive amount of guilt over the matter. And I've never been one for issues and damaged goods. Too complicated."

Al coughed twice, something that sounded like "Pot…kettle…" and Auric shot him a suspicious look, which Al ignored. "Um. Yes. Well, relationships usually are complicated," Al mused aloud. "But I agree, he's never been able to let Ed go, probably because he never got to say goodbye the way I did. Not that I handled it particularly well, but at least I didn't have to go the last four years thinking of all the things I should have said." He hesitated, then said delicately, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe if you helped him to see that and let him say goodbye symbolically, he could move on and this wouldn't be such an issue between the two of you."

"I'm not the one with the issues," muttered Auric. "But fine, if it'll make you _happy_." Al nodded decidedly, and Auric sighed. "Why does it seem like you're the one bossing me around? Are you certain I'm the older brother?"

"Oh, you're definitely _older_," smiled Alphonse serenely. "But I'm taller."

The outraged spluttering of the older Elric brother could be heard for miles around.


	15. A Place Between

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Comment:

This really leads on from the previous chapter, _The Snake And The Cross_. They were supposed to be two parts of one chapter, but wound up being way too long. So please forgive that this is probably ever-so-slightly shorter than than my last few entries…not by too much, I don't think, and I quite like how this one turned out. As usual, let me know what you think!

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title/song credits, please see the end of the story._

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**_Chapter 15: A Place Between_**

The officer saluted smartly and turned on his heel to leave, casting a surreptitious glance at the General as he did so. While he had always respected the man – his reputation stemmed from the Ishbal massacre, after all, and he had had ample opportunity to observe the Flame Alchemist's handiwork up close and personal this go-around - his regard had increased thousand-fold at the fact that the famous Fullmetal Alchemist had returned from whatever unknown place he had been in for the last four years solely to save him. Loyalty like that was earned, and not easily either. Funny thing was though, the scuttlebutt had always been that the two harboured a mutual antipathy – the yelling that went on whenever those two were in the same room was legendary, and paycheques had changed hands on the length of the argument, volume as measured by the number of hallway lengths away you had to get before you couldn't hear them, and the number of times the word, "bastard" was used, with bonus points when used in combination with other insults, e.g. "bastard dog-of-the-military." Guess you really couldn't believe everything you heard.

The General looked up from the chart he was studying. "Was there something else, Captain?" The man's eyes were weary and ringed by dark shadows, and he was moving stiffly, his jacket hanging open and revealing that his ribs were heavily taped. Still, his gaze was sharp enough, the officer gauged – he had probably refused anything for the pain to ensure his mind stayed clear.

"No, sir. Just…glad you're all right, General Mustang, sir."

The dark gaze softened fractionally, and the man inclined his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, soldier. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir!" said the officer, exiting the tent hastily. So hastily, in fact, that he tripped over a tent-peg and stumbled into someone rounding the corner. "Hey! Watch where you're going…" he stopped abruptly as he met an annoyed yellow gaze. "Holy…er, I mean, I beg your pardon, Major Elric, sir…and Major Elric," he added hurriedly as the Earth Moving Alchemist came up behind his brother.

The shorter of the two men smiled tightly. "That's all right…Captain, I haven't gone by a military rank in a long time. Fullmetal will do. And drop the sir."

"Yes, sir, I mean…."

Alphonse Elric intervened gently, "We're keeping you from your duties, Captain. Carry on." The officer saluted again and fled the scene. Just wait until the others heard about this! A real, live encounter with the Fullmetal Alchemist himself! So he was a little shorter than expected, but he had real _presence_ – something about the way he held himself? And that amazing hair was a real waste on a guy.

A pair of golden eyes watched him go sourly. "I hate it when I have to guess at whether I'm supposed to know someone. I don't know how much longer I can do this, Al. I'm going to slip up."

"No, you won't," his brother said reassuringly. "We're in the military, you can always just use their ranks and no one will notice that you don't remember their names. You were never big on remembering them anyway. Besides, you've been gone for four years – everyone will make allowances for that. People do move on, you know."

Auric's eyes flicked over to the half-open tent-flap. "Not the man I'm going to see."

* * *

Roy held himself up straight - the very model of a modern Major-General, he thought wryly - until the thump of the tent-flap against canvas signalled that the Captain had left. Then he let his shoulders slump ever so slightly as he breathed out very, very slowly. Broken ribs hurt like hell, and why he had refused the morphine proffered by the doctors was beyond him at the moment. It would have eased the pain, and he could have caught a few hours of shut-eye. More importantly, it would have softened the harsh edges of reality and afforded him some peace, if only for a little while.

No. That was the first step on the slippery slope to addiction. He'd seen it happen to soldiers before. At first it was just a temporary fix for the pain, but later it because a necessity, a craving, an uncontrollable need for the sweet oblivion that drove them mad. He would not go down that path. Mainly because right now it seemed so very tempting that he knew that he would be lost once he gave in and surrendered to its siren song in an attempt to find that haven he had found but once before, in Edward Elric's arms. A place out of time – a place _between_. Roy closed his eyes and deliberately flexed his injured hand, wincing at the pain but welcoming it as a distraction from the morbid path his thoughts had taken. He gasped silently, chewing on the inside of his lip as he waited for the first wash of pain to ebb away before sagging against his desk in relief. Perhaps he really should get some sleep – one of the wonderful things about rank was that you got to demand a field cot in your office, and right now the rickety, sagging object was looking incredibly alluring. The other wonderful thing about being the highest ranking officer present was getting to award field promotions. He'd promptly made Maes a Brigadier General, and the look on his friend's face had been priceless.

"What?"

"You heard me, _Brigadier_ Hughes. For uncommon creativity in psychological warfare."

Maes's face had darkened. "Roy…about that…."

"_Quite_ inventive. Truly inspired. You must have been planning this from the moment you saw him in my office," and Roy had let the bright brittleness of his voice carry the accusation far more effectively than any amount of ranting and raving would have done. "In future though, I would appreciate being kept informed about such plans before they surprise me on the battlefield. Or was the shock value a key element in your strategy as well?"

"Would you have agreed to it if you'd known?" Maes had asked quietly, pointedly.

Roy had been silent, but Maes had read the answer in his eyes. "Ed always was your weak spot, Roy. You're able to be objective about everything else in pursuit of your goals _but_ the Elric brothers and Ed in particular. We needed him. I wouldn't be much of an Intelligence Officer if I didn't make use of a heaven-sent opportunity to boost morale and weaken the enemy. Sir."

"No one's questioning your _professional_ judgement, Brigadier," Roy had responded coolly. "But you'll forgive me if I don't feel like discussing my personal affairs with you at the moment; I have a war to win and a country to run. And you have new responsibilities awaiting, I believe."

He'd promptly delegated most of the operational and logistical issues to the newly minted Brigadier, leaving him free to work on the details of cleaning up the remaining pockets of violence and consolidating his power in the vacuum left by the Fuhrer's unpleasant demise at the hands of the resurrected Fullmetal Alchemist. It was challenging at a remove from Central, but Roy hadn't become the youngest General in the military's history for nothing. And Maes was trying to make amends by throwing his rumour mills into high gear and putting out propaganda-appropriate pieces – the war-hero bit always played well with the masses, and their eyes and ears in the capital were already seeing a groundswell of support for the heroic General Roy Mustang. Roy's mouth twisted cynically. If they could only see the blood on his hands.

The cot beckoned, and he directed his steps accordingly, the boots on his feet feeling like lead weights as he shuffled over. Nearly there…and then he tripped over his own feet. Shit. It was going to hurt like hell when he hit the floor, he thought dizzily, but instead a strong pair of arms caught him as he went down on his knees. "Thanks," he gasped out, opting to stay still for the moment until the world stopped spinning.

"No problem," came the wryly amused voice. "Although I have to say this is becoming a bit of a habit with you." A pair of cat-like golden eyes met his, and Auric cocked an eyebrow at him. "Much more of this and I'll be forced to conclude that you're falling for me."

* * *

Roy's eyes followed the golden-haired Gatekeeper as he bustled briskly but silently around the tent. Auric had easily gotten the taller man onto the cot, his touch gentle so as not to aggravate any injuries, but his slight build belying a surprisingly wiry strength that Roy remembered well. After a moment of hesitation, Auric had stripped off his coat to use as a blanket when a few minutes of searching had turned up nothing else suitable, and Roy was finding it strangely comforting. It smelled right, if nothing else, and the fringe benefit was being able to observe Auric's trim, black-clad figure at close range unencumbered by cloak or cape or coat. Just like Ed's, except for the one addition.

"Do you ever remove your gauntlets?" Roy asked drowsily. He could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness despite his best intentions, into that pleasant state in-between dreams and reality when the most inconsequential questions seemed to carry the most weight.

Auric looked over, startled. "Not really. Not when I'm in the open like this, anyway. Self-defence." He flexed his forearm, clenching his hand, and to Roy's surprise a thin, flat blade about eight inches long slid out smoothly, extending forward over the back of Auric's fist. He could see how it might easily catch an opponent unawares, and would certainly ensure that a punch delivered would have more than the usual consequences. The Gatekeeper shrugged self-consciously as he retracted the blade. "In case I'm otherwise disarmed. It's come in handy more than once. Now go to sleep, General, you need to rest or you won't be of any use to anyone."

"Don't want to go to sleep," Roy slurred, even as his eyes fluttered shut. With his hair falling over his eyes and fatigue forcing his guard down, he looked surprisingly young and frail as he curled up on the cot, hugging Auric's coat to him.

Auric thought fleetingly that it had been a good idea to post Al at the entrance to give them privacy – he was pretty sure the General be mortified if anyone caught him looking this vulnerable. But this was _not_ how he had envisioned his meeting going. "Why not? Aren't you tired?" he asked gently, as one would speak to a fractious child.

"Because…you'll be gone when I wake up," came the barely audible whisper. "Can't deal with that again, Ed. Hurts."

The Gatekeeper bit his lip, then dragged a folding chair over to the cot and sat down. "No, I won't. I'll sit here with you," he promised, reaching out and taking one of Roy's normally elegant, long-fingered hands in both of his own, careful not to jostle it – from the looks of the swelling, the Flame Alchemist wouldn't be snapping his fingers again anytime soon. Roy's colour seemed a little too hectic in his pale cheeks, and Auric frowned. "I think you're a little febrile, although it's probably just your injuries. Here, drink a little water before you sleep," and he reached for the glass of water on the camp table. He slipped an arm behind the man as he handed him the glass, and was unpleasantly disturbed anew by how little the man weighed. He'd obviously been pushing himself to his physical limits even before this whole mess had started. Masking his concern with brusqueness, he settled Roy back against the single thin pillow and put the glass away before returning to his seat and taking Roy's hand again. "Sleep now."

"I'm sorry." A half-delirious mumble.

"What for?"

"I never told you."

Auric held his breath. Perhaps he could salvage something of his original intentions after all. "What didn't you tell me?"

"Never told you…you left and I never told you…." Roy mumbled restlessly, and Auric found himself gently brushing the man's bangs from his face and laying a hand soothingly on his brow.

"That's all right. I'm here now."

Roy's breathing seemed to grow deeper as he calmed down under Auric's touch. "Never told you…I know why you had to go alone…isn't there a place between?" His words were halting and broken, almost as if they were but parts of a larger whole. Auric could have sworn that he had heard them before. But where? He searched his memory, puzzled, and then stiffened imperceptibly as a memory floated into his mind of their last night in Risembool. He had retired before Al and Winry to give them some privacy to make their goodbyes, and as he had walked up the stairs, he had heard Winry singing softly:

_I know you're gone  
I watched you leave  
I always thought  
That it was me  
You made it clear  
With that last kiss  
You couldn't live a life  
With maybe's and whatif's _

_When every boat has sailed away  
And every path is marked and paved  
When every road has had its say  
Then I'll be bringing you back  
Home to stay _

_When every town looks just the same  
When every choice gets hard to make  
When every map is put away  
Then I'll be bringing you back  
Home to stay_

_And now I know why you had to go alone  
Isn't there a place between_

_Reach out to me  
Call out my name  
And I would bring you back again  
Today   
_

Auric pressed his lips together, fighting an odd swell of emotion. "I guess we're all looking for that place between, Roy," he said softly. "But now I know. And I'll come home when it's time, all right? Sleep now. I'll be here when you wake." Roy stirred slightly, and a very faint smile touched his lips as Auric shook his head ruefully and cursed himself for being a maudlin fool. "Sleep."

* * *

_Again, credit where it is due and a plug: the song, "Home To Stay" (Amy Foster-Gillies/Jeremy Lubbock) can be found on the self-titled debut album by Josh Groban, a lovely, talented young man who spent some time at one of my alma maters before pursuing his professional career. It's an amazingly beautiful song sung with deep emotion by a great singer, and I highly recommend both the song and the album._


	16. Awakening

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

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**_Chapter 16: Awakening_**

"General. General?" The voice was low, but insistent. The dark-haired man buried his head deeper into the rather hard pillow and valiantly tried to ignore the buzzing sound in his ears. "Mustang. You have to get up now. And will you please let go?" The speaker was now engaging in a tug of war with him over his blanket, and he was quite determined not to lose. He yanked harder and snuggled smugly into his prize as the other party gave up with an irritated sigh. Ha. Take that. There was a pause, and then the voice dropped half an octave as it purred warningly, "_Roy_…wake up or I'll get an orderly to fetch Captain Hawkeye, and I'd really rather not, given that she'd happily put a bullet hole in my coat to get to you."

Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, Major General and current ranking officer on what was starting to become known as the Battlefield Of The Drachman Rout, shot upright on the rickety cot and regretted the abrupt motion almost immediately as his battered ribs creaked in protest. He wrapped his arms protectively around his middle, blinking blearily as he tried to bring the world back into focus, his neck stiff from the awkward angle at which his head had been lying against the singularly inadequate pillow. "How long have I been out?" he muttered to the as yet unidentified speaker, taking refuge in military habit. "Coffee. Status report."

"About an hour. You could probably use twice that, but duty calls, I'm afraid," and a mug was thrust into his groping hand. "Here, drink that. And everything appears to be under control, except that one of the division G1s insists he needs to see you and you have a staff meeting in half-an-hour." Roy obediently bent his head, his features melting into an expression of pure bliss at the aromas wafting from the standard issue battered tin cup. He inhaled deeply twice, almost ceremoniously, and then as the first scalding sips went down, reality seeped back into his sleep-befuddled mind in a jumbled rush of images and sensations. Breathing shallowly because of the tape wrapped tightly around his ribs. The pain and the light-headedness. Falling. Being caught. The pleasant dream he had been having about Ed being here and finally being able to tell him…wait a minute. Oh dear.

Auric. He felt his face flush as he tried to remember what – if anything – he had actually said out loud before passing out unceremoniously.

The Gatekeeper plopped down in the folding chair by Roy, holding his own mug of coffee and swinging his feet up to rest on the edge of the cot. He looked annoyingly well-rested, Roy observed resentfully, still struggling to recall what had happened after Auric had tucked him in. The resilience of youth, no doubt, and some part of his thought must have made it to his face, because a look of smug amusement flitted across the blonde's face as he nodded towards Roy's rapidly cooling coffee. "Drink up, go on, I…persuaded…the Colonel who wanted you to come back in twenty minutes," and a glint in the Gatekeeper's golden eyes suggested that he had been forced to be less than polite. "It's going to get cold and that would be a waste, given what I had to go through to get it." Roy's brows arched upwards in inquiry, and Auric rolled his eyes. "It seems some idiot quartermaster forgot to include coffee among the victuals dubbed 'necessary supplies' when they finally got the supply lines open again, and I had to transmute the coffee grounds from cocoa and tealeaves. Don't worry, I've already sicced Hawkeye on the guy." He sipped from his own mug cautiously. "Tastes all right though. I am _good_."

The caffeine was finally kicking in, and Roy summoned up the wherewithal to smirk faintly. "I'm pleased that you were able to perform such a delicate transmutation without my _oversight_. And I can see that you have everything well in hand. So glad to see that adopting Ed's persona hasn't dulled what _little_ finesse you had, _Gatekeeper_."

"Who are you calling littler than a coffee-bean, you ungrateful bastard?" fumed Auric, teetering back on the flimsy folding chair as he brought his boots back down to earth with a thump. "I saved your life! Again! I spared you the embarrassment of having one of your men find you sleeping on the job!" He drew in an outraged breath, and declaimed in ringing, accusing tones, "I made you coffee – _literally_ - which the rest of the camp would _kill_ for. And might I just point out that that last was _not_ in your contract?"

Roy considered this judiciously, tipping his head back as he watched the younger man through his lashes and adopted a mock-thoughtful expression. "The first two might fall under 'doing whatever it takes,' don't you think? And as for the other thing, well…" he toasted the younger man mockingly, "rank hath its privileges."

Auric glared at him. "You're lucky I actually care about my reputation for never having lost a client or you would be _so_ dead right about now."

To his surprise, Roy inclined his head in acknowledgement and made no biting comeback. "I do realize that. And thank you for the coffee." An awkward silence fell, as both men gathered their thoughts. Auric fiddled absently with the end of his braid, debating whether he should bring up what had happened – wondering if the man even remembered. Mustang had definitely been sliding into the delirium of exhaustion at that point, so there was a decent chance not. He had to admit it was a relief to see the General pulling himself together - this was infinitely preferable to the pallid figure he had watched worriedly for the past hour. The warm coffee was bringing a touch of colour to the man's pale cheeks, highlighting the elegance of his bone structure, although his eyes were still slightly too glassy-bright, and Auric found himself looking – really looking – at the General, at the slender dark brows that could be as expressive as words, at the shadowed eyes that could sparkle with inner fires often kept banked and hidden from public view, at the graceful lines of throat and collarbone revealed by his rumpled, half-open shirt.

At least Ed had had good taste in men, if not clothes.

"Your hair's a mess," observed Roy finally, drawing his legs up gracefully to sit cross-legged on the cot. He knew he should be readying himself for his staff meeting, but some small part of him wanted just a few more moments in this oddly restful intimacy.

"That's why I usually keep it tied back," Auric sighed, undoing the end of the braid and letting his hair fall free as he shook it out. Even knotted and tangled from the day's exertions, it held a hypnotic beauty, a curtain of rippling yellow gold, full and thick. "It's too long to braid myself unless I pull it forward over my shoulder, but then it doesn't lie back out of my way. Maes had to do it for me – guess he's had enough practice with Alicia." He looked guiltily at Mustang, hesitated, then bit the bullet. "Look, Mustang…I really am sorry. About the charade, I mean. Although it was Colonel Hughes's idea, I did go along with it…eventually…and I don't think we really thought past what would happen…after. Battle has a certain immediacy that precludes much thought beyond it, you know."

Clamping down hard on the irrational streak of jealousy that shot through his veins at the thought that Maes had gotten to run his fingers through that amazing silken fall, Roy focused on the more immediate crisis, namely, the sinking realization making itself known in the pit of his stomach. He knows about Ed, the intensely private man thought bleakly. Breathe. Just breathe. Auric was obviously trying to be deferential to Roy's feelings in not bringing up the subject directly, and the compassion of that act somehow made it all the worse. The alchemist struggled to calm his roiling emotions even as it felt as though all the air in his lungs was being sucked out forcibly. Or the doctor might simply have taped his ribs too tight – he should check into the possibility that he had been one of the Homunculi in disguise, he thought wryly - then shook his head wearily as he recognized the gallows humour for the coping, delaying mechanism that it was. The Gatekeeper flinched at the negative gesture and Roy put out a hand to reassure him. "That would be Brigadier General Hughes now, and I accept your apology in the spirit it is given, although it really isn't necessary," Roy said quietly. "It was a brilliant strategy – and it worked. You've thrown the enemy into disarray, given the men new heart and my cause new strength, and for that I thank you…regardless of how it might affect me on a personal level." He swung his legs off the cot and stood, carefully folding the red coat over his arm, avoiding Auric's eyes, afraid of what he might see in them. Disgust? Wariness? Pity? The thought of it turned his stomach, but he refused to let it show on his face. He had become good at that over the years. "I should get ready for that staff meeting – I'm surprised Hawkeye hasn't turned up with a briefing packet yet. Here," and he offered the neatly folded coat to Auric.

The Gatekeeper made no move to take it, his golden eyes resting steadily on Roy's face as they searched it for…what? "Auric? You should keep that, at least until we're back in Central." Roy forced himself to speak normally as he held out the offending article of clothing.

A fine brow lifted, and Auric seemed to come to an abrupt decision. "Can't," he said succinctly. "Need help braiding my hair first." His eyes never wavered as he stepped forward into Roy's personal space, his eyes narrowed speculatively like those of a cat that had just spotted a particularly enticing rat. Roy couldn't name the odd emotion he saw in that aureate gaze. "Or have you changed your mind about the advantages of having Edward Elric be seen by your side, General?" His voice had dropped to a velvet whisper that sent shivers down Roy's spine. He had to admit it was an interesting experience being off-balance on the other side of the predator-prey equation.

"Oh? Do I look like your valet to you?" he asked lightly.

Auric raised his other eyebrow at that. "Do you _really_ want to know what you look like to me, Roy?" and the simple sound of his name as it slipped lazily from the Gatekeeper's lips was more alluring than any number of blandishments that had been waved at him over the years. And then the sound of a bugle marking the hour broke the spell and Auric looked away. "I'd tell you, but duty calls. You have a meeting to go to, and I need to find Al and make sure he hasn't gotten himself into trouble."

What had Auric been playing at, wondered Roy as he waved the Gatekeeper into a seat on the bed and sat down next to him. For a moment there, it had almost seemed like Auric was offering…but that was ridiculous. "If you insist. Turn please – yes, that's fine. Bear in mind though that hairbrushes are hard to come by on battlefields, so I'll have to use my fingers." He started working at the larger knots, which fell apart with surprising ease. It felt just as he remembered – warm, fine and silken-soft, yet thick enough for it to have heft and weight. He remembered a fairy-tale his mother had told him about a princess who had been asked to spin flax into gold – assuming the princess had been a reasonably talented alchemist, he supposed it would have resulted in something like Ed's…Auric's hair. Roy frowned at a particularly difficult knot. "Since I'm stuck doing your hair, debrief me so I don't have to read the report. What exactly did you do to the Fuhrer?"

Auric shrugged, his eyes fluttering shut under the soothing touch of Roy's fingers carding gently through his hair. "Unlike the coffee – which I happen to consider a far greater achievement, by the way – there was no alchemy involved, I'm afraid, just your basic Gatekeeper skills. It seems that the Philosopher's Stones that give your Homunculi life and human form contain the same form of energy I use to manipulate Gates. I just bled it off from him…let most of it go back into the earth, tapped a little for a booster. I needed it, been running a little low of late, and another handy effect is that it obviates the need for sleep, at least for a little while."

Roy looked at him thoughtfully, hearing the odd note in his voice. Then his hands stilled for a moment as a puzzle piece fell into place. "That's how Gatekeepers die, isn't it?" It was a bleak statement, not a question. "That's what you've been hiding from Al – that you can only do it until you run out of energy, which everyone does eventually. And then you lose control, and it kills you. That's why you've been so tired, and that's why you were coughing up blood even when we first met you."

The Gatekeeper remained stubbornly silent until Mustang tugged at his hair insistently. "Ouch! Cut that out, you bastard! Fine, yes! But that won't be a problem again for a while. I drew enough off that Homunculus to tide me over. I'll be fine unless I have to open another large Gate, so as long as you don't require one, it's a non-issue. And this does not reach Al. Got that? I don't need him fussing over me like a mother hen. Besides," and Auric's face darkened, "from what he's told me, our mother died of some kind of wasting disease, something similar. It almost sounds as though someone was tapping into her life energies for some other purpose. He doesn't need to be reminded of that."

Roy noted the use of the term "our mother". This was an interesting development – Auric actually seemed to be gradually accepting his previous life as Ed with all its attendant ties. As to the actual topic under discussion, however…Roy pursed his lips, but conceded after a moment's reflection that the blonde was right. "Fine. But I want to know the instant you're feeling unwell, are we clear on that?" He tugged again, more gently this time.

"Dictator," muttered Auric.

"That _is_ the whole point of what we're doing here," Roy pointed out wryly as he finished the braid and picked up the bit of elastic Auric had used to secure it. As he wrapped the elastic around his fingers however…"Damn it!"

Auric half-twisted around. "What?"

"Nothing," came the sharp reply. Rolling his eyes, Auric reached around and grabbed the end of his braid, then turned around to see Mustang gently rubbing his fingers.

"Hell, I forgot you had a bruised hand," cursed Auric. He snatched the elastic from the bed where Roy had dropped it and tied off the end of his braid, then reached for Mustang's hand, running his fingers gently over Roy's as he frowned at the swollen digits. "Huh. Yeah, you're not going to be snapping your fingers anytime soon, Flame Alchemist. Fortunately for you, you've engaged the services of a particularly foresighted Gatekeeper." Roy arched a sceptical brow at the younger man as he began to rummage around in the pockets of his coat. "Where is it…I can't have dropped it, can I? Unless…maybe the fight…if I did I'll kill that idiot Pride _again_ for wasting my…aha! Hold out your hand."

Roy sighed and complied, giving him the less injured appendage. "Here you go. Don't lose it; I had to make Maes sacrifice three pictures frames for it," grinned Auric, not looking penitent in the least. He dropped a small rectangular object about two-thirds as wide as it was long into Roy's palm. Roy turned it over in his hand bemusedly. It was surprisingly heavy for its size and extraordinarily well made, with rounded corners and a silver mirror finish marred only by the miniature but meticulously defined arrays engraved into either face, and Roy inhaled sharply as he recognized the arrays normally found embroidered on his gloves. He flicked the object open.

"A lighter."

"A windproof, _waterproof_, alchemy-ready lighter, idiot," corrected Auric testily. "I'd prefer not to have to attend your funeral simply because you were careless enough to lose your gloves - you'll always have a way to start a fire and an array pressed into your palm this way. You know, you alchemists get so caught up in your little status symbols – gloves, watches, whatever - that you sometimes forget to be practical about things. For instance, mighty Flame Alchemist…you might want to contemplate the simple chemical composition of water in your spare time. Last I checked hydrogen and oxygen were both highly inflammable gases."

Roy opened his mouth to dispute the statement, then closed it again grumpily and smirked to cover his chagrin. "But I have you to watch my back, oh great Gatekeeper."

"I may not always be around when you need saving, _bastard_," growled Auric, snatching up his coat and turning to leave. Roy blinked at that. Auric's language had certainly become more…colourful as he grew more comfortable with accepting Ed as part of his whole. "Later, Mustang. Try not to burn down the tent." Roy watched him lift the tent flap, then suddenly pause. "Hey, bastard General?"

"Yes, _Fullmetal _shrimp?" he said clearly for the benefit of ears that might be listening. He got a reflexive growl for that, but the scowl melted swiftly into a wistful smile.

"Thank you for trusting enough to let _us_ fall," the blonde man said softly, stressing the word so lightly that it was all but imperceptible to the casual eavesdropper, and even a particularly interested observer might have assumed that the word referred to the Elric brothers. But the look in Auric's eyes said otherwise. "We were never one for maybe's and what-if's. But when this is all done…he and I…we'll come back home to stay. If you think you'd still want to find that place between." And with that he was gone, ducking gracefully out the tent flap.

Roy stared unseeingly into his past as he contemplated his future in the footsteps that walked lightly away. He remained very still for a long moment. Then he pocketed the lighter, stood up and neatened his uniform, straightening his jacket and finger-combing his hair into a semblance of normalcy, donning the mask of an all-seeing, all-powerful, all-knowing leader. His present beckoned for now.

But when this was all done, he would bring him back home to stay.

He paused and made a mental note. And they were going to stay in bed for a week. At least.


	17. Aspects Of Love

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note: been getting loads of questions (Much joy! Keep 'em coming!) and decided it wasn't a bad time to answer a few of them, so Q&A stuff is down at the bottom. Other stuff…we've broken the 11,800 mark for hits and the 160 mark for reviews in under a month. Wow. I am thrilled, and grateful, and humbled, all at once. In true Oscar weekend spirit, I'd like to thank all the wonderful reviewers and readers, my father, my mother, my brother, my sister, my extended family, my high-school English/literature teacher (for real, he was an awesome influence and a real grammar fiend – any errors herein are mine and not his), my classmates, colleagues, neighbours, friends, enemies, acquaintances, their third cousins thrice removed, my uncle's roommate's sister's brother-in-law's cat….

Here's to equivalent exchange! Much love and gratitude - NF.

* * *

**_Chapter 17: Aspects of Love_**

The golden-haired man in the distinctive red coat hummed contently to himself as he jogged across the irregularly defined parade square in the middle of the mass of tents, licking his fingers clean and dusting the crumbs off his shirt front. He'd made a quick stop at the mess tent, hoping to find Al and also to nab a sticky bun that was now giving him a pleasant buzz on top of the coffee. An awestruck private had volunteered that he thought Major Alphonse Elric might have gone to visit some of the wounded in post-op, and thusly had Auric turned his footsteps, after kindly transmuting the vat of drain-coloured water masquerading as tea – or cocoa, it was never made quite clear which - into coffee, thereby earning the adoration of the men, which was always good for the ego, if a tad anathema to Auric's preference for a low profile. It didn't take much to make some people happy, he thought philosophically, and alchemy was actually proving to be rather fun. Although he wasn't quite ready to take on anything beyond simple transmutations yet.

He'd also managed to imply that the suggestion had percolated down from General Mustang, which would certainly be good for Roy's reputation as a caring and farsighted leader who could be counted upon to take care of his men in matters both large and small and would certainly go a surprisingly long way towards generating the sort of popular goodwill he would need to rise to Fuhrer. Which event would effectively terminate the contract, its purpose having been satisfied. Which would remove the restriction imposed by Auric's conscience with regards to the Guild rule about not establishing personal relationships with clients. Which therefore incentivised Auric to ensure the contract was completed as soon as possible so that he could find out if Mustang's hands were as good at…other things as they were at braiding hair. Mmm. He dragged his mind out of the gutter with an effort. Yes, a decent morning's work so far.

Auric snorted in amusement as he caught himself analysing and dissecting his own ulterior motives; you could take the Gatekeeper out of the Guild, but apparently not the Guild out of the Gatekeeper, it seemed. But then if Al's stories and Ed's old reports were to be believed, Ed had come up with a few similarly devious plans in the past, so perhaps it was just a natural-born talent for intrigue. The Fullmetal Alchemist's legendary impatience not withstanding, Auric rather had the feeling that his previous identity had been one of those people for whom things came easily, including penetrating _or_ devising subterfuges, should he choose to put his mind to it - that affair with the gold and the deed to the mining town, for instance. The Gatekeeper chuckled to himself – he was starting to become very fond of Ed. There were worse people to have been.

* * *

Jean Havoc lay on his stomach and eyed the long aisle running down the post-op ward stealthily. Not a nurse in sight, and Riza had left to attend General Mustang's staff meeting. Excellent. He carefully reached for the pack of cigarettes and matchbook he had stashed under the mattress after scrounging it from one of the orderlies. Tapping the pack against his palm until one slender stick slid out, he smiled in satisfaction as he raised the cigarette to his lips…only to find it suddenly being whisked away by an annoyed looking blonde. And it wasn't even the one with the boobs. 

Auric glared irritably at his sometime subordinate. "For crying out loud, this is a hospital ward, Havoc. You are _not_ lighting up here."

Havoc fell limply back facedown into the pillows. "Come on, boss, have a heart! I'm going crazy here!" He lifted his head again. "It's bad enough I have to lie on my stomach thanks to those damned holes that Homunculus put in my back, but now they want to take my smokes? It's cruel and unusual punishment, is what it is!"

"What better time to quit?" responded Auric unsympathetically. "It's a nasty habit anyway – you should drop it if you really want a chance with Captain Hawkeye."

"Nah, I think she's already fallen for my rakish charm," Havoc said blithely. Then his brow furrowed. "Hey boss…does that mean you remember being Auric?"

The reminder that Havoc – and likely everyone else in Roy's inner circle apart from Maes and Al - believed he was Ed jolted Auric for a second, even as he reprimanded himself for forgetting momentarily that he had a role to play. He had worked with these people for only a short while, but he had gotten to know, and respect, and even _like_ them, and he had hoped the sentiment was mutual. Were they so keen to be rid of him and get Ed back then? "Um. Sure. Kind of. Why?"

"I dunno. I guess I wanted to thank him for his advice with Riza, and I was worried that I never got to. But if you remember what he said, then I suppose thanking you would be the same thing. That's great that you haven't lost your memories as him, boss, he was a pretty good guy. Not that it's not _wonderful_ to have you back, of course," Havoc added hurriedly, "the General's missed having you to yell at, he takes it out on me and Fury instead, but it ain't the same thing."

Auric grunted ambivalently. "Bastard General, we'll see who's yelling at whom. So you liked him then?"

"Sure, he was cool. Had a temper like yours sometimes, but he was a little better at controlling it, is all. Although you seem…different, boss. Calmer now, less grumpy. Guess it has to do with achieving your goal of getting Al's body back, huh?"

"Four years is plenty of time to mature," said Auric wearily, certain he'd had a similar conversation with Mustang before. Had he really been such a hot-head in the past?

Havoc shrugged as best he could with the bandages wrapped around him and the multiple IVs in his arm. "Hey, do you remember how to fight like Auric? And how'd you get your memories back anyway?"

Opting to gloss over the second question, the Gatekeeper raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. "You missed the entire thing with the Fuhrer?"

"Sorry chief…I heard it was really impressive, and that you disintegrated him at the end! Guess your alchemy hasn't suffered from not being used for four years. But I didn't see a thing, sorry…was kinda busy being nobly wounded in the Captain's arms, if you know what I mean," winked Havoc.

Auric sighed, but a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head at the irrepressible Lieutenant. "Get some rest, Havoc. And if you so much as _think_ about lighting up, I'll tell Hawkeye on you. Congratulations, by the way – now don't do anything stupid to lose her."

Havoc smiled wistfully. "The only way that could happen would be for the General to change his mind." A pair of golden irises flicked up to meet his gaze, and he frowned at the enigmatic look in them. "What?"

"Firstly, have more faith in Riza. She doesn't take her decisions lightly," was the calm reply. "And secondly…don't worry about the General changing his mind."

The wounded man blinked. "Why not? He's done it before, just to annoy me."

A half-amused growl. "Yeah, he can be a real asshole – _believe_ me, I know - but he's not a cheat. Especially when he knows the person he'd be cheating on wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. Permanently." And Auric allowed himself a flash of fang as his eyes glinted dangerously.

The older man's mouth dropped open so far he thought he'd dislocate his jaw. And then a huge grin split his face. "Did I ever tell you that I _love _you, boss? No, wait, better make that deeply respect and admire – Mustang would toast me if he thought I was hitting on you. Actually, I think I speak for all the men of Amestris when I say that you have my eternal gratitude! I can't believe it! I mean, I know he swings either way, but…wow! When? Before? Have you – no, on second thought, I don't want to know! But…wow! The Flame and the Fullmetal – the Dynamic Duo! Who would have thought…and…wow!" Havoc knew he was treading on dangerous ground as tawny eyes narrowed and the colour rose in the blonde man's cheeks. He pointed hastily to the IV in his arm. "Come on, boss, you know you couldn't hurt a drugged-up invalid!" he smirked.

"I could try," was the ominous response.

"Aw, there's no need to be embarrassed, chief! I'm happy for you – and me!" Havoc gurgled giddily, and Auric made a mental note to check with the nurses as to the dosage of morphine Havoc was receiving; it seemed…excessive. "It's actually kinda romantic, you know…you: returning, not knowing who he is; him: not telling you, wanting to let you be free as he suffers in silence; you: finally remembering who you are in order to save his life…" he trailed off dreamily. "I wonder what sorts of stories people will tell about me and Riza?"

Auric twitched, rolled his eyes and turned to leave. "Spare me, Lieutenant; you're starting to sound like Major Armstrong. And I'd quit while you're ahead," he advised over his shoulder. "Or having Hawkeye use you for target practice will seem like a nice walk in the park next to what I'll do to you." A thought struck him, and he turned back to face the still idiotically grinning Havoc. "Say, have you seen Al? I came here to look for him."

"Al? Sure, he was here," agreed Havoc, his manic expression fading. "But boss…Al left with you fifteen minutes ago. Did you lose him or something?"

Their eyes locked in fearful comprehension. And then Auric was racing out of the ward as Havoc yelled for the MPs at the door.

* * *

Roy leaned back in his chair and stared up at the undistinguished green canvas of the tent that currently served as his office and living quarters as a nervous Colonel droned on about various logistical details. What had seemed roomy with just Auric and himself in it was becoming positively claustrophobic with his much-expanded staff squeezed in and sitting on whatever available surfaces there were. No help for it though, as the largest tents had been commandeered on his orders for more essential purposes like housing the wounded and feeding the men. He knew there were a number of very annoyed officers out there at the moment, but frankly, he couldn't care less at this point. How some of those pompous, selfish excuses for leaders of men had made it this far up the ladder was beyond him – he considered their eviction from the palatial quarters they had been occupying in the middle of a war zone without thought as to the welfare of the troops a first small step towards changing things for the better. His eyes glazed over as he began to sort through the various political intrigues he was manipulating at a distance back in Central. 

From her awkward perch with pen and paper on a box mysteriously labelled "General Stores", Hawkeye looked affectionately at her CO as he lounged back, steepling his fingers before his face and assuming the negligent attitude that had lulled lesser men into the complacent thought that Roy Mustang was bored, or uninterested, or simply daydreaming, when the truth was that he was simply quite capable of delegating part of his mind to the task of listening and sifting through incoming information for anything important while the rest of him was engaging in abstract planning. Anyone who thought they could take advantage of the seemingly distracted General was very quickly put in their place, and few ever made the same mistake twice. She supposed that casual attitude that belied a fierce intellect and will was part of what she loved about the man.

Loved?

Yes. But she wasn't _in_ love. Once again Auric had displayed that damnable talent for seeing through the heart of things to the one truth. He had stated that she loved the General, and that was entirely true. Riza Hawkeye was not a sentimental woman, and now that she had cleared her mind of the fog of want in that cathartic purge of weeping, she finally understood that she had confused her love of who he was to her with being in love. Oh, she cherished him greatly as a person, and she still believed in his dreams, and admired his strength, and allowed herself to be led by him. She always would. And Roy had understood that, had appreciated her friendship and respected her courage, and had willingly taken up the heavy burden that it to was to lead. Unlike her, however, he had never confused that with being in love. That state where you loved the person not for their strengths, and not in spite of their flaws, but because of who they were, because of the weaknesses and foibles which made them human, that state where you were willing to face down the other's demons and to _let them face yours_ – that was being _in _love. And while a small part of her wished Roy could be that person to her – a wish shared with most of the single female population of Amestris, she knew she wasn't capable of taking on his demons, which were particularly vicious and would make even the strongest of men quail. She needed him to be the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang, the handsome, arrogant, charismatic leader of men that he was, who made her believe the world could be changed for the better through their efforts. And she would always be grateful to him that he had never once complained about the weight of those expectations or allowed her to see him drop them. She loved him for it. But she wasn't _in_ love with him, nor he with her.

She knew who the object of his affections was though. And because she loved him, she hoped that person was in love too. If anyone could use some saving from their own demons, it was the Flame and the Fullmetal. For Roy's sake, she was very glad Ed had come back. Although she hoped Auric hadn't completely gone – she'd never really thanked him for opening her eyes and freeing her from the prison she'd put herself in. Funny how someone who professed a detachment from emotional ties outside his Guild could be so good at navigating the space between others. The clarity of distance combined with Ed's innate capacity for empathy and compassion, she supposed. Not that he'd ever really made the General the beneficiary of those sentiments – or maybe he'd just had a unique way of expressing them. Come to think of it, the General's sarcasm probably fell into that category too.

"I believe the 101st has moved _west_, Colonel Schmidt, not east? Or have our compasses all spontaneously reversed polarity?" General Mustang had neither opened his eyes nor raised his voice, but the tone he used made the already nervous Colonel drop the report he was reading from. He scrambled to pick it up, dropping more papers in the process, but was saved from further mortification by the sudden entrance of a panicked sergeant.

"Beg pardon for the intrusion, General Mustang, sir!" the non-com gasped as he attempted to come to attention, remove his helmet and get off a salute in the limited space available to him, surrounded on all sides as he was by officers.

Roy's eyes snapped opened and he was on his feet in a trice, all appearance of lethargy gone in an instant as he acknowledged the unfeigned tension in the man's voice. "What is it, Sergeant?"

"It's Major Elric, sir! He's disappeared, and we think the Homunculi lured him away. And the Fullmetal Alchemist's gone after him alone, sir!"

A deafening silence descended on the meeting. It was broken a second later by frenzied yelling as the officers raised their voices with suggestions, each trying to get the General's attention. And then a deafening silence fell again as the General sent a lick of flame into the air inches above their heads. They all stared at him mutely. Roy fixed them with a cool look, then rapped out, "Double the sentries around the main camp. Reissue the signs and countersigns, and they are to shoot to kill _immediately_ if the answers are unsatisfactory, regardless of who the person appears to be, is that clear?" Nods all around. "Brigadier Hughes, I'm leaving you in command here. I'd speed up the evacuation of the wounded as much as possible."

"Where are you going, sir?" Hughes asked urgently.

Roy gave him a warning look. "I'm going to take a search party and go after Fullmetal and Al."

"With all due respect, sir…" his friend began, and Roy cut him off, knowing what he was going to say, knowing he was right intellectually and yet knowing on a completely different level that Maes was wrong.

"The Homunculi are our most immediate threat, Hughes. If we don't take care of this now, the chaos and carnage they could wreak with the help of their allies would be devastating, not just here but all over the country. It could throw us into civil war. And we simply cannot afford to lose more alchemists – we've already lost a whole generation, practically, in this damned war, and we'll need them to help us rebuild Amestris."

"Roy…" You're rationalizing this, Maes's glare seemed to say. "Fullmetal is quite capable of defending himself, as is the Earth Moving Alchemist, sir. As it stands now, with the Fuhrer dead, you're too important to endanger in this manner, sir." He loved the two boys dearly, almost as much as he loved Alicia, but he also had a job to do as XO, and on the top of the list of things an XO was responsible for was the safety of his CO. Especially knowing that said CO was likely having trouble being objective in this situation.

"Against one Homunculus, yes. But we don't know how many are left out there. We know Lust and Envy are still alive, and perhaps Wrath and Sloth. Two-to-one odds aren't great when you're fighting soulless creatures, Brigadier. And while I appreciate the concern, I am still, first and foremost, a State Alchemist. The Human Artillery: what the military brings out when all other methods have failed, remember? I think this situation qualifies." Roy was already buttoning up his jacket and the other officers who had been watching this little by-play open-mouthed hastily followed suit. "Gentlemen, you have your orders. Major Armstrong, stay here, assemble the other alchemists and fortify the camp's defences. Captain Hawkeye, you…."

"I'm coming with you, sir," she interrupted firmly. "State Alchemist or not, someone has to watch your back." She met his gaze steadily as she picked up her rifle and patted down her pockets for spare ammunition. "I wouldn't want to have to deal with the paperwork if you got yourself killed. Sir." That earned her a sardonic look, but he made no further comment, merely nodded.

"Let's go."

* * *

**Answers to some questions I have received:**

_1) What theme song would you envision for this story/Roy & Ed's relationship if this were an actual anime? (very interesting question, I hadn't really thought about it despite the musical allusions in Chapters 10 and 15)_

Theme Song: sticking to canon, I think it would have to be the fourth opening theme song, "Rewrite" by Asian Kung-Fu Generation – I love the opening chords, and the mood swings between the fatalistic insouciance of the main line and the sudden amp up in the chorus. Otherwise, Edward Elric's _seiyuu_ Paku Romi sings this great song, "Jiri," ("Reason") in character as Tao Ren in the anime Shaman King (who in some ways is very much like Ed in terms of personality!), and that's very cool too, especially the chorus.

Relationship Song: "Spin" by Lifehouse. Awesome song. And again, the theme of needing to let go and just give in, and about _letting_ someone be your anchor in a crazy world. Yes, I am a little obsessed with the dichotomy of letting go in order to attain what you seek.

_2) Where did this plot bunny come from?_

A single scene which literally popped into my head, the end of Chapter 5 when Roy and Ed meet again for the first time in four years. And then I thought, "What if Ed didn't remember Roy? How would Roy feel?" And it sort of took off from there.

_3) Why are there no explicit scenes?_

Because this is rated T for a reason, and there are plenty of writers out there who do explicit far more beautifully than I. Which is not to say I'll never do an M-rated fic, just that it won't be happening in this story! Fluff and tenderness and teasing and wanting and allusion and emotion and swearing, yes. Graphic descriptions, no. Sorry.

_4) Who will Roy wind up with, Auric or Ed?_

Don't know for sure yet. Sorry. But I'm guessing a bit of both. Those of you who have been reading from the beginning know that this story pretty much has a life of its own and does what it wants. We're nowhere near where I thought we would be when I started writing this, but at least (judging from all your lovely reviews) the ride's been interesting for everyone!

_5) When will you get back to your other in-progress fic for Shaman King?_

Gomen nasai! I know, I know, I actually started "Do You Believe In Destiny?" before "Full Circle." And I don't believe in doing things by halves, so rest assured that I will continue it at some point. But for right now, I can only keep one storyline straight in my head, and for some reason the need to know how all this will work out – for Auric, for Ed, for Roy – is overwhelming. The details of the next chapter only start to put themselves together after the previous chapter is finished, so I'm as much in the dark as anyone else as to where this will all end, which is probably why I'm so determined to get this written! Not knowing the ending kills me!

Thanks again! -NF.


	18. Gate Of Truth

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

* * *

**_Chapter 18: Gate Of Truth_**

Auric skidded to a halt just outside the encampment, chest heaving more in panic than from actual physical exertion. What was he thinking? How was he going to find Al without help? Fifteen minutes ago – Al and those damned zombies could be anywhere by now. He growled in frustration. Think, Auric, _think_! He'd let his guard down, let himself go soft – this was why Gatekeepers did _not_ get involved with outsiders, damn it, it clouded the mind and allowed fear to impair judgement. Even as he berated himself though, he knew that Al's case was different. Blood was blood. And there was no way he was going to break his promise to Winry now. Shoving the guilt aside, he closed his eyes and welcomed the shadowy darkness that descended as he calmed himself and drew upon all his training to achieve that eerie focus that enabled Gatekeepers to cross space and tap into the Earth's energies. Clarity descended with trained swiftness: Al was with the Homunculi. The Homunculi each had a Philosopher's Stone as the core of their lifeforce and power. He could sense that energy and use it as a marker to teleport himself to Al. No problem. "Just like finding a beacon," he breathed to himself. "Come on, Gatekeeper, pull yourself together." So he would have to go in blind, with no knowledge of the number of hostiles he was facing. He'd been in worse situations before, right? Although for some annoying reason, nothing remotely similar was coming to mind immediately….

The Gatekeeper shrugged irritably at himself and cast his mind out into the ether, searching for an energy signature that he hoped would lead him to his wayward brother. Wait for it…wait…patience was key…and then he felt a flare in the ether. There it was! As he felt the familiar tug of teleportation begin, the overriding thought in Auric's mind was that when this was all over, he was definitely going to have to sit down and have a chat with young Alphonse, something along the lines of, "How to tell if your brother is actually a Homunculus in disguise and why you should _not_ go off with him if he is." Alchemists. Naïve idiots, the lot of them.

* * *

For some reason, the overriding thought in Alphonse Elric's mind, apart from staying alive to see his wife and daughter again, was that when – not if, but when – his brother found him, he was _so_ going to get a lecture about being a naïve idiot. Ed had always been extraordinarily good at delivering martyred, older-brother-type sermons that left you feeling incredibly stupid and inconsiderate, and he suspected Auric would be too. It was actually an incredibly comforting thought, since his brother would actually have to find him in order to deliver said lecture. Hence Alphonse's certainty about the "when." 

But until then, he was stuck in the open, in the middle of a binding array drawn with his blood which prevented him from using alchemy or stepping out of the array, with a very testy-looking, pint-sized Homunculus named Wrath glaring at him. Not so good. He really did look a lot like Teacher though – they had the same scowl.

"He's not coming," snarled Wrath accusingly, and for a horrified instant Al thought that Wrath had read his mind. But then Envy strolled forward lazily, shaking off Ed's appearance and tossing his hair back as it darkened from wheat to green-black. He smirked at Al in an obscene parody of the grin Ed would wear when making his little brother complicit in some new scheme, eyes flickering contentedly over the swelling welts on Al's cheek and temple where he had been clouted viciously.

"He'll come. You know Al's the most important person to him in the world."

"He'd better," sulked the younger Homunculus. "Otherwise I'll have to take this one's body instead. And then my arms and legs won't match, and I might not get my soul."

That was the point of all this? To get the rest of Ed's body in order to get a soul? Perhaps it was the concussion, but Al found himself sniggering out loud hysterically. "Who on earth came up with that stupid plan? You can't _get_ a soul by taking someone's body!"

Envy's eyes glittered. "Don't listen to him, Wrath. It'll work. We'll give the Gate _chibi-san_'s soul, and Equivalent Exchange means you'll get one in return."

"Oh please," Al scoffed, curling into a ball and shutting his eyes as he tried to make the ringing in his ears go away. "Who would be the expert on this stuff? Me, the State Alchemist who's been to the Gate and back _twice_ thanks to Ed, or a badly-dressed Homunculus who looks like one of the uglier aspidistras in General Mustang's office?"

Envy cocked his head to one side interestedly. "Hey, if you hit this one enough, he starts to sound like the _chibi-san_!" He leaned in and smacked the back of Al's head experimentally. Al gritted his teeth and stayed silent. The Homunculus sighed disappointedly. "You're no fun. _Chibi-san_ would have been swearing up a blue streak for that."

"It worked for you!" Wrath was looming over Al now just outside the array, he could tell from the proximity of the voice and the shadow that fell over his closed eyelids. "How else did I get my arm and leg?"

"Brother gave up his arm to _bind_ my soul to this plane, not to _get_ a soul for me," Al corrected. "And why am I explaining all this to you anyway? Go do whatever you want – you'll fail. I doubt you'll even be able to get the Gate open."

"I have before!" stormed the little Homunculus, stamping his foot.

"You were already _at_ the Gate. It's not as easy to open it from this side," Al said shortly. "Now will you please be quiet? My head hurts."

Envy wrapped a comforting arm around the trembling Wrath. "Don't worry, Wrath. He's just trying to scare you, that's all. It'll work. And even if you can't open it…we'll have an expert here, remember? _Chibi-san_ will do anything to keep Al safe. Even sacrifice himself – again. You know, Al, it's amazing he still loves you after all the trouble you constantly put him through. He'd probably have had a much happier life if he didn't have to worry about you all the time." He watched the young man wince at the telling shot in satisfaction.

Al wrapped his arms tighter around his knees and rocked himself back and forth. Envy had unknowingly struck a much deeper nerve than the one he had been targeting. The Homunculi didn't know about Auric, of course, but Al had to admit that Auric was a lot calmer, more centred, more at peace with himself and the world than Ed had ever been – and he wondered how much of that could be attributed to not having to constantly worry over Al. "I'm sorry, brother," he whispered miserably.

"Fight now, be sorry later," came the terse reply. "And then we're going to have to have a talk about wandering off without me. Or with me, as the case may be."

Al's grey eyes snapped open. His brother was standing there, arms akimbo, golden eyes flashing and brows knitted together in a manner that indicated that he was Very. Pissed. Off.

Yep, he was so going to get a lecture. Al had never been happier in his life about that.

Envy smirked. "See, told you he'd come."

* * *

Roy forced himself to be calm as he waited for the scouts to return. A stunned MP corporal had reported that the Fullmetal Alchemist had run out of the camp, stopped, cast around – and then suddenly disappeared. Which meant that they couldn't track him, resulting in lost time as men had to be sent ahead to recce the area. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he felt a tension headache setting in. When this was all over, he was definitely going to have to sit down and have a chat with Auric, something along the lines of, "Proper Policies and Procedures for alerting your CO _before_ running off to single-handedly save the day." Despite the intervening four years, he was pretty sure he still had it down pat, although he also knew that the probability that it would have any lasting effect on Auric was minimal, given that it had never worked on Ed. But the venting always made him feel marginally better anyway. And if not, there was always make-up se…. 

"Sir." Hawkeye had popped up by his elbow in time to cut that line of thought off. "One of the scouts reports he's found the Homunculus Lust. He says she's contained – looks like Edward was able to trap her in an array. About a mile that way." She fell into step beside him as he turned in that direction.

"I'm surprised Fullmetal was able to take the time to draw an array," Roy remarked absently as he checked his pocket for the lighter Auric had thoughtfully given him. His hand was still aching, and he wouldn't be winning sprints anytime soon, but at least his ribs were hurting slightly less now.

"Oh, he didn't, sir," Hawkeye said in amusement. "It seems he's integrated some of Auric's techniques into his own – according to the scout, she's surrounded by four throwing stars in a four-point array. He nearly picked one up before he realized that there were arrays engraved into the metal. I'm no alchemist, but it looks like Edward took a leap and created a binding array out of four smaller arrays." She smiled reminiscently. "Remember when he was little, sir? 'They say he's a real prodigy,' – well, I guess he never grew out of that."

Roy nodded. "Detail a couple of men to stand guard over Lust, warn them about not disturbing the array. And remind me to put a commendation in that scout's file – men who can think intelligently on their feet like that are hard to come by." He kept his face neutral, but a little flicker of hope grew stronger within him. Auric had been able to tap into his alchemic abilities to create solutions on the fly – that required a lot more skill than simple transmutation. Maybe some subconscious part of him was starting to remember. Maybe everything would turn out all right after all. And then the telltale crackling of alchemic energy in the distance made him break into a run.

* * *

"Lust must be falling down on the job," Envy sighed sorrowfully, shaking his head. "I knew we should have let Sloth take care of this. She was supposed to let us know you were coming, _chibi-san_." Wrath nodded in agreement as he peeked out from behind the older Sin and ran his eyes greedily over the blonde man's body. 

"Who are you calling a midget so small he needs to be announced so that you don't trip over him when you go to meet him?" snapped Auric incredulously. "And this is coming from a walking dwarf palm two inches shorter than I am? There's a new low right there!" For some reason, he was having trouble controlling his temper - something about this Homunculus just rubbed him the wrong way. It was as though something inside him was fighting to get out, and he was becoming increasingly disinclined to stop it.

Al groaned. "Brother…fight now, be upset later? And could you, um…."

"Oh, right, sorry," Auric muttered. Without taking his eyes off the annoying Sin, Auric moved his foot enough to rub out a portion of the Array. The invisible barrier that had been holding Al vanished, and the younger Elric sighed in relief as he slowly stood and staggered out of the array, holding a hand to his head. His brother spared him a glance. "You feeling all right?"

"I've been through worse," Al said phlegmatically. "He hits like a girl, anyway. Acts like one, too." That earned him a bark of laughter from Auric, who threw an arm around Al's shoulders.

"Come on, Al. Playtime's over, time to…" and the rest of what he was going to say was cut off as Wrath hurled himself upon the object of his desire in a shrieking blur of limbs and hair. The surprise sent the Gatekeeper to the ground, but he rolled with the impact, coming up on top of the young Sin. "You know, I normally _like_ kids, but you're being a real brat," he spat out as he struggled to pin the wriggling Homunculus.

"Watch out, brother, Wrath doesn't need an array to perform alchemy either," cautioned Al worriedly. "He's got your arm and leg and…oh no you don't!" and the Earth Moving Alchemist slapped his hands together and sent a bolt of alchemic energy shooting towards Envy as the older Homunculus edged towards the fighting duo on the ground. "Hurry up and take care of Wrath and let's go!"

"I want the rest of your body!" wailed Wrath, managing to kick Auric in the stomach with surprising force.

Auric gritted his teeth as he absorbed the impact and thanked his lucky stars that he had been keeping in training with Armstrong. If you could take a punch from the Strong Arm Alchemist, you could take most things thrown at you. "Yeah? Take a number. It's a real pain being this good-looking sometimes. And by the way, the fact that you have my arm and leg is truly disgusting. I'd take them back, but I don't do second-hand body parts."

"That begs the question of what you _do_ do, but we can leave that for another time. Good to see that all your scrapping hasn't dented your ego, Fullmetal," came a familiar sarcastic drawl. Al ducked another swing by Envy and looked up in relief.

"General Mustang! Captain Hawkeye!" He could see a platoon of men fanning out behind them to secure the area. A beefy young grunt put a snarling Envy in a headlock as Hawkeye clapped a gun to the Sin's head.

"One twitch and I'll put this magazine through your skull," she informed him cheerfully. "_Please_ do give me an excuse. I have plenty of spare ammunition."

Auric rolled his eyes at the dramatic entrance. "About time you showed up, bastard General. Getting soft in your old age?"

Roy's lips twitched. "I don't believe so. But you're welcome to help me find out."

That earned him an irritated - if reluctantly amused - glare. "Mind. Out of gutter. _Now_," ordered Auric. "You're embarrassing the young ones." And indeed, when Roy looked around, Al was looking absolutely mortified, as were many of the younger men, who were scratching the backs of their necks and looking away in embarrassment. While they knew _of_ the General's reputation, it was one thing to hear about it and quite another to see it in action. He shrugged.

"They're going to have to learn about the birds and the bees at some point, Fullmetal - Al's already a father after all."

"_So_ not the point, idiot. Oh…excuse me," and he coolly backhanded the young Sin who had just tried to bite his hand. "No biting! Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's bad manners?"

Wrath's eyes widened in shock. "Your arm!"

"What can I say, I outgrew my old one," Auric said wryly. "You might say that the one you have is from an obsolete model. But I wouldn't worry – you won't be needing it much longer." His face grew serious. "Sorry, kid. You didn't ask to be dragged into all this, and you deserve better, but hopefully you'll find some peace on the other side."

"No!" A panicked cry rent the air, and Sloth was suddenly there, becoming a spinning waterspout as she rushed towards Wrath. "You won't hurt him!"

Time suddenly seemed to slow for all present there, like the last few seconds before a train wreck, when everything becomes awfully, painfully clear as inexorable forces converge.

Al bit his lip and fought back tears. Even though he knew the Homunculus wasn't really his mother, she looked so much like her, and the note of maternal fury in her voice tugged at his heartstrings. Oh mama, I'm so sorry, he thought even as he took a breath and began to bring his hands together.

Roy was already flicking open his lighter as a sad smile graced his lips. "Last I checked, hydrogen and oxygen were both highly inflammable gases. Time to put theory into practice, eh, Fullmetal?"

Auric turned, startled. Why did Sloth's voice call up such odd feelings in his breast? Longing…and regret…and guilt, overwhelming guilt – his hands trembled and Wrath took the opportunity to break free of his grasp. "You're coming with me!" the young Sin screamed, and he brought his right arm and left leg together, resulting in a sudden explosion of alchemic energy that radiated across the sky and seared the retinas of all who saw it. "I will have a soul!"

Stupid, stupid, stupid, thought Auric dazedly. Lost control, lost focus, distracted by all these people…what is going on? Who am I? A jumble of voices seemed to well up inside his mind and he had to fight the urge to cover his ears and scream so that they would be drowned out, would be silent, would stop, please stop, every one of you just stop telling me who you think I am! And then one voice, louder than the rest, more urgent, more desperate, broke through the haze.

"Brother!" How often had he heard that voice calling out to him in entreaty?

And something in Auric snapped as he remembered a day not so long ago, heard the familiar cries of "Auric!" and "Make way for the Gatekeeper!"

Alp. Dead. The Gate had taken him. Al. Dead. The Gate had taken…no, no - he had wrestled Al's soul back from the Gate, hadn't he? He shook his head in confusion as disjointed memories crashed upon each other like waves dashing against the dikes that held them back from the lands beyond. The Gate of Truth. Part of him recognized it and another part of him was completely blank. One part of him raged: how many more times would he have to pay for that mistake? Another part whimpered: if only he could remember what that mistake had been…. And then the obdurate core of his being reasserted itself, clinging to the one thing it knew, _knew_ with a stubborn certainty: every time this Gate showed up, it took Al. He couldn't let it take Al again. Not again.

And so as Wrath activated the array that would force open the Gate of Truth, Auric threw himself at the young Homunculus and clasped the Sin to him, drawing energy from him, letting it pass through his body, bending it to his will – and then a white explosion seemed to take place in his brain as he connected directly to the Gate. He barely heard the scream of pain as the young Homunculus disintegrated in the energy stream,every fibre of his being straining to the task of yanking the other end of the energy stream towards himself, the only way he knew to close a Gatestream without anyone on the other side. He could almost sense a detached consciousness on the other side, an inhuman, curious presence that considered his efforts judiciously…and then suddenly seemed to come to a decision of sorts and reached out and plucked away the floodgates that had been holding back memory….

Every nerve in his body screamed in protest at the sensory overload as memory rushed back into his brain and coursed through his veins. The pain was overwhelming, and spots swam before his eyes as his newly reborn mind struggled to process the sudden unfamiliar wave of physical sensation, but even so, he felt a flare of triumph in his chest. I did it, he thought furiously, I've come back. I've come back! And then just as suddenly as memory had returned, he felt it being drawn back into the Gate, and his consciousness with it. The blonde man struggled against the undertow, flinging out his hands desperately like a drowning man seeking an oar as he convulsed, digging and clawing at the ground as if to hold himself in this plane of existence by brute force, but he knew it was useless as his body began to relax involuntarily. Guess this is it – again – he thought groggily. Hell. At least Al is all right. He turned his head, seeking his brother, but instead his eyes fell on the form of a dark-haired man wreathed in flames. His sight was failing, the images before his eyes beginning to blur, but he knew without a doubt who it was, recognized the person who had always been the source of his strength in the spinning chaos of space and time that had become his existence and his all-too-brief present. And so as his eyes darkened and he felt his soul being pulled into the limbo of the Gate, he reached out, only wanting to see that face one last time, to hear the voice he had missed for so long.

"Roy!"

The man spun around in surprise as he heard his name, eyes widening as they met a hauntingly familiar gaze from which the light was already fading. The look of recognition in those golden eyes pierced his heart like a spear, bringing him to his knees as he reached out despairingly. He didn't know how, or why, or what had just happened, but he knew those eyes, that _look_, knew the spirit behind them that burned as fiercely as a shooting star in its last moments. "_Ed_! No!"

"Sorry, Roy…I'm so sorry…." And with that, Edward Elric's head lolled to one side as his chest fell gently in one last soft sigh. His wide-open eyes were dull and vacant, his mouth slack, his face frozen in an expression of mild surprise. From behind him, Roy heard a gut-wrenching cry of agony as Alphonse Elric witnessed the sacrifice of his brother to the Gate of Truth for a second time. And then he fell forward onto his hands, his eyes never leaving Ed's pale face as a tidal wave of self-recrimination and loathing washed out through the gaping hole left in his chest from having his heart ripped out. He had failed to keep Ed safe. Again.

_Reach out to me  
Call out my name  
And I would bring you back again  
Today_


	19. Equivalent Exchange

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Oh, ye of little faith! What happened to believing and holding out for a hero? The number of messages I have gotten from people who have _never_ reviewed before saying, "So this is the end, huh, that was random/abrupt/lousy/sad. You SUCK," or something similar is really disturbing. Far be it for me to discourage anyone from writing me or reviewing my work, and this isn't directed at those lovely first-timers who wrote me notes of encouragement or wailed about me being evil (because cliffhangers are), but honestly! I bust my ass to get this story updated at the rate of 4.5 CHAPTERS PER WEEK (yes, that IS what it works out to if you do the math), and you nameless people (you _know _who you are!) do nothing but freeload on the wonderful reviewers who bothered to stop and say hi and keep me going, and then you have the _nerve_ to call me short…um, I mean, criticize my story based on a wholly unwarranted and erroneous assumption! I should let Roy roast you all, I really should. Lucky for you, his hands are currently full with seeing this story through. And like him, I'm duty-bound to save my favourite blonde alchemist, so I'll stop ranting and get back to work now. But I swear, there's a place beyond the Gate for you nasty people. And it's not a nice place.

And now back to our regularly scheduled _Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_ programming. Oh, and as always, much love to my loyal reviewers – this one's for you!

* * *

**_Chapter 19: Equivalent Exchange_**

Time didn't seem to matter in this place. It was always the same. Brighter than the light of a thousand suns, but with the sense that there was a darkness without pressing in eagerly, waiting to pounce. Being here meant being able to see everything, _know_ everything all at once, and yet also to be left feeling empty and wanting, as though something important were missing. And always, the unsettling sensation that there were inhuman eyes watching, observing…testing.

It would have made his skin itch, if he weren't currently bodiless. But as that was the happy state he found himself in, he decided not to concern himself unduly about it, and instead busied himself with picking through the more interesting nuggets of information that were suddenly a part of his consciousness as he tapdanced his way through the cosmos. Interesting. Hmm. Wow. Huh, and what about…oh, so that's how one does it…hmm…must remember to remember that when I leave. Funny, I think I've thought that before.

A voice out of nowhere suddenly, the sound of many speaking as one: Not all knowledge is meant for human minds. You already retain more than most. In this state, your boundaries are unlimited and you may comprehend infinity…when crucified to a physical plane, that same knowledge would drive you mad.

I knew it! I've been here before, haven't I?

Indeed. Once when you died, and then again when you sacrificed yourself for your brother. And this makes a third time. You are…unique in your persistence. Most who make it to this place come the once and never again. And far more try merely to see and fail. You survived that first look at a young age, although it seems you did not learn from it.

Whatever. Spare me the all-knowing speeches, all right? What do I have to do to leave this place?

Although the voice never wavered from its sonorous tones, it somehow managed to sound distinctly amused: You also ask the same question every time.

Yeah? So do you ever answer me?

There was a silence that could have lasted seconds, or minutes, or an eternity during which stars burned out and new worlds were born. Finally, a reply, if not an answer: Who are you?

What does _that_ have to do with it?

Everything.

* * *

Roy cradled the limp body in his arms. In some ways this was worse than the first time, because he had allowed himself to hope this time, to open up, to start to think that maybe, just maybe, they would be allowed to have this chance. The ragged pain in his chest was doubtless being caused by the jagged edges left behind as hope was torn away. "Oh, Ed," he whispered as he pressed his lips to the cool forehead. No blood this time. Just an empty shell that felt more hollow than the suit of armour Alphonse Elric had inhabited for so long. He could feel the earth shake beneath him as the Earth Moving Alchemist laid waste to the land in his rage, striking out blindly, tossing aside allies and enemies alike as he shook the very foundations of the earth in his agony. He could hear Hawkeye yelling at Al, trying to snap the alchemist out of his madness, but to no avail. Sparks and fragments of ash and cinders whirled through the air, burning brightly as they fell to earth glowing and then abruptly went out. Roy closed his eyes, pushing away the metaphors that came to mind. "Ed…" _Reach out to me. Call out my name._ A shudder ran through his body and a single tear finally escaped his iron grip. "Ed…love…come home. Please. You promised. Come home." 

Sloth howled, her normally gentle face twisted into a horrific black hole of pain. "Wrath! My baby! You murderers!"

Envy smirked. "Whoops. A two-for-one-deal - guess we lost them both at the same time. That wasn't _quite_ the plan, but whatever works. Although I have to say," and he sighed in mock sorrow, "I'm going to miss the _chibi-san_ a whole lot more than that whiny brat. He was cute…and at least he wouldn't have wet my bed."

The female Homunculus whirled on him in fury. "You planned this! You meant for Wrath to be destroyed!" And she lunged for the androgynous Sin, slapping aside the soldier holding him with a contemptuous flick of her wrist and sending him skidding and spluttering as a spout of water the rough equivalent of three fire hoses hit him right in the face. Envy rolled his eyes as he leapt aside lithely.

"Well _of course_ I did. I mean, really – alchemy or no alchemy, I knew who I was backing in a showdown between those two. And it wasn't Wrath." The spiky-haired Sin rolled his eyes. "You have _no_ idea what a pain it was to have to be nice to that brat so that he'd help me keep Alphonse trapped long enough for the _chibi-san _to notice and get over here. I guess I should be impressed that he managed to take the _chibi-san_ with him. Funny the body didn't make it. Hey, I know," and he smiled slyly. "What if we used _chibi-san's _body to bring Wrath back? That would be pretty funny, wouldn't it? And the brat would get the body he wanted."

"Don't you _touch_ him!" came a shriek and Envy suddenly found himself impaled and struggling in the grip of a huge stone hand studded with spikes that had risen out of the ground and was crushing him so tightly he could barely breathe. "I'll _kill_ you!" Al's grey eyes were stormy and clouded with an anger that actually frightened the Sin because of its unexpectedness. Wasn't the younger one supposed to be the calmer brother of the two? Hawkeye hovered in the background uncertainly, torn between trying to stop Al from killing Envy – and the overwhelming desire to see the Sin hurt very, very badly.

Sloth's eyes lit with a fiendish, desperate hope. "Give him to me!" she snarled as she rushed at the kneeling figure of Roy Mustang as he bowed his dark head over the auric one in his arms.

"General!" Hawkeye drew her gun and emptied the clip into the Sin's back, but it barely slowed her down. "General, look out!"

Roy raised his head in what seemed like painful slow motion. Gently, tenderly, he lay the body of Edward Elric down on the ground, smoothing back the long bangs and brushing the golden eyes shut, their long dark lashes a sooty sweep against the chiselled cheekbones that had taken on the pallor of death. He stood with deliberate grace, picking up something from the ground as he did so. And then he turned around to face Sloth, his eyes flicking over to meet Hawkeye's for an instant. She gasped. Those dark eyes, normally alive with all the emotions the man would not – or could not – let show on his face, were now dead, flat chips of obsidian glass in which pinpricks of red fire danced madly.

The homunculus skidded to a stop, her teeth bared in a terrible grimace that contrasted oddly with her kind, sad features. "Give me back my child, human. And I'll let you all walk away."

"Would that I could, Trisha Elric," was the dull reply. "Had I not been too cowardly to do what needed to be done in Risembool eight years ago, you would be at peace, and your child would still be alive. I made a mistake then. But I will not walk away again."

"What are you talking about?" hissed the Sin, her voice tinged with anger and fear. "Do not call me by the name of that pathetic human creature, you foolish man!"

Roy's eyes glittered coldly. "We are all who we are, homunculus. And _you_ can call _me_ Roy Mustang. Or just Major General. Hell, you can even call me the Flame Alchemist," he said almost absently, as though his mind were someplace else entirely. "But whatever you do, just remember the pain."

There was a sudden silence. And Hawkeye knew with an awful certainty what would happen next.

The Sin lunged at the Flame Alchemist, transforming into her aqueous state as she did so.

Roy shrugged languorously with the air of a man suffering from extreme ennui, inclined his head slightly, and flung his hand out negligently, the small silver object he held glinting redly as it flickered to life. His expression didn't change one iota as the Sin exploded barely a foot from his face in a thunderous release of light and heat and steam that sent the awestruck soldiers hurtling to the ground as they shielded their eyes. Hawkeye was the first to rise, staggering towards her CO as she tried to blink the blurry purple afterimages away. They seemed seared into her retina, but as she caught a glimpse of the bleak look on Roy's face, she suddenly thought that perhaps not seeing clearly was a blessing.

There was nothing left of Sloth except a little reddish brown dust that blew away in the breeze. Hydrogen and oxygen are highly inflammable gases that burn clean after all. Basic alchemy.

"_Requiescat in pace_, Trisha Elric. From the man who loves your son."

* * *

Stop playing games, damn it, and just answer me. What do I have to do? 

That is all you have to do. Answer the question.

What? You're supposed to know everything in this place, why do you need _me_ to tell _you_ who I am?

Then why do you not answer the question? Who are you? It is a pure and simple enough truth that self-knowledge is the most elusive knowledge there is. You might almost say…it is gold.

The truth is rarely pure, and never simple. Credit me with enough intelligence to realize that.

No one has ever accused you of less.

I have a name, you know.

_Do_ you know?

Are you saying I don't know my own name? It's…it's…I don't…. Shit. It's all a mess in my head. Why can't I remember? There's just too much…stuff in there right now! So much noise…I can't…damn it. Fine. I'm lost.

Who are you?

You're enjoying this entirely too much, you bastard. And since you obviously seem to think you know, why don't you tell me?

Because that is not why you are here. _You_ must answer the question. Who are you?

I…don't know. _Yet_. But I will figure it out. I will remember…

Certainly of all who have come before, you are the closest to achieving it.

…and when I do, I am going to make you very, very sorry you ever messed with me.

An amused silence. Then: In that case, you might want to hurry. Time here is infinite…elsewhere, it is not. And there is more than your own existence at stake here. Of course, whether you accept those stakes is up to you.

_What_ are you talking about?

* * *

"Don't do it, Al," Roy said softly. "You're not a killer yet…Ed wouldn't have wanted you to be. Leave him to me." 

"No," and the alien bitterness compressed into that one word from Alphonse Elric's lips made even the Flame Alchemist step back involuntarily. Al's normally open, warm face was shuttered tight now, the same look Roy had seen on countless men pushed to do the unspeakable and end another's life. He knew it well. Had worn it often, for a time. Had nearly died of it, for that look choked off life, cut you off from all that was good, and living, and human. Maes had saved him, had prised open the shutters, but it was Edward Elric who had sent a clean wind through the emptiness, blowing away the dark thoughts that had prevailed for too long. Had brought him back to life. Had taught him what it was to love.

For Ed's sake then, he had to save Al from a similarly dark fate. They had had a contract, after all.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face despite his best efforts, because Al shook his head, a small, decisive back-and-forth motion. "You can't say anything that will change my mind, General," said Al tonelessly. "I can be just as stubborn as my brother. And you were never able to change his mind either."

Roy forced a smirk. "Indeed? It must run in the Elric blood. But I don't think your brother would find this a fitting tribute to his memory, do you?"

Al lifted his grey eyes to glare at his CO. "Don't even _try_ to pull that sentimental crap with me, _sir_," and Roy was struck by how much the younger Elric resembled his older brother at that instant. "And I wouldn't try to stop me by force, either. Flame Alchemist or not, you know what I'm capable of. I wouldn't want you to wind up as…collateral damage." A sudden soft hiccup made an odd juxtaposition against the grim demeanour, and Al's voice suddenly sounded much younger as he choked out, "Brother wouldn't like that. And I would hate to make him sad. He's suffered enough because of me."

"It won't bring Ed back, Al. I promise I'll see that Envy is suitably taken care of. But not like this. You know it's wrong."

"Wrong? My brother…is dead. Because of this abomination," and the stone fingers squeezed harder. Roy could hear the cracking of bone and the homunculus actually let out a moan and slumped further, seemingly unconscious. "Come on, General. If anyone should have the satisfaction of avenging my brother, it should be me. It's my fault – it's always been my fault. But as a result, no-one – but _no-one_ – understands the One Truth better than I…." Al's voice trailed off dreamily. "It's like brother always said: Equivalent Exchange."

"Revenge is _not_ Equivalent Exchange, Al. And your brother always fought that - his whole goal in life was to circumvent that and reverse the mistake he made, remember?" The Flame Alchemist kept his tone quiet, reasonable, even. "Why would he want you to be bound by that now?"

"Because in the end even he couldn't cheat it!" howled Al suddenly. "My brother, the Fullmetal Alchemist – he couldn't do it! To give me back this body, he had to give his up! And then when we got him back…I didn't ask how, I didn't ask why…I just wanted to believe that we could do it, that we had surpassed the One Truth, that if anyone could do it, it was my brother. And we were going to be happy…even though there was the war and everything else, we were finally going to be happy. _You_ were going to be happy. He loved you. He _loved _ you, you _bastard_ – and you don't even care!"

Roy shook his head dumbly as Al's accusation lashed at his open wound. "Of course I care, Al - I loved him. I always will. But your killing Envy won't change anything, Alphonse-_kun_. Please. Don't do it."

"You're one to talk, with all the blood on your hands," Al pointed out flatly. "The One Truth, General, is that to get something, one has to give up something of equal value. We should have known that getting Ed back without sacrificing anything couldn't last. And now we've lost him again, and all our hopes, and all our dreams. Oh, I'm going to be a good younger brother – I'm going to obey his last words to me, when he told me to live. But first, I have to make sure this never happens again." His voice grew harsh. "Equivalent Exchange, remember? A life for a life. Although this soulless abomination isn't half the man my brother is…was…."

Equivalent Exchange, thought Roy desperately. Something was wrong. Something was nagging at him, and he could almost hear Ed's voice ranting frantically in his head: Bastard General, how stupid can you be? Get off your lazy ass and think! In Equivalent Exchange, something is given up in order to obtain something of equal value. What did the Gate take this time?

An arm and a leg. The remains of a young boy. A Philosopher's Stone. A soul…a spirit….

And you call yourself a State Alchemist? Cut to the chase, bastard - what did you get _back_?

Nothing. There had been no equivalent exchange.

There had been no equivalent exchange!

"He's not dead!" gasped Roy.


	20. Ouroboros

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Wow. First up, let me say that the outpouring of support I got from reviewers on the last chapter more than made up for some of the anonymous reviews I was forced to delete on the chapter prior! Thank you so much for sticking around and continuing to encourage me. I know it's been a little longer than usual on the update, but it's been a rough week on all fronts, and this was a hard chapter to write. Sometimes though, you have to take the time to get all your pieces in place, and I'm very excited about the set up for the next chapter. So read, enjoy (hopefully!) and please do leave me a review! Much love –NF.

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 20: Ouroboros_**

You leave him out of this!

And what is he to you?

He's…important.

Why?

A jumble of images in the whirlpool of his mind, and he fights to find the ones he needs with a stubbornness that surprises even him, his consciousness focusing down to a knife's edge as he seeks an answer. There! A little boy with tousled sandy hair toddling along behind, his pudgy fist latched onto a receding shirttail, stubby legs stumbling forward determinedly as he tries to keep up. A little older now, laughing with legs dangling over the side of a bridge as he points at something in the distance. Lower lip quivering, blinking back tears by the side of a grave as he puts on a brave face but sidles closer for comfort and reassurance. Troubled grey eyes cast into shadow by the light of a glowing array that is both stunningly complex and horribly, horribly wrong somehow. And then an armoured knight reaching out to him, red eyes glowing from within the helm. The images blur again, breaking up like reflections in a pool as a wind blows across its surface, then still, and then that warm face is there again, framed in a green hood, laughing as an arm reaches towards him to pull him up. Swinging a long staff easily – a _bo?_ somehow he knows that is its name – as the man runs towards a fracas. And those familiar grey eyes turning away from him and towards a bright light descending from the sky, and he knows that this is bad, that he needs to stop this but he cannot move, cannot even close his eyes against the sight…and his mind whispers a name, and hears a voice crying out for him….

He's my _brother_, you bastard. And I will not let you hurt him again! You will not touch him, do you hear me? Soundless fury, for how can there be voice without air? Yet somehow he knows the other hears him, hears the message he is delivering.

There is a fascinated, coiled stillness, much like that of a venomous snake waiting to strike at its prey. And then, an acknowledgement: Very good. You never cease to amaze us….

…Fullmetal. He doesn't know why he said that, but it seems right. It sits right on him, somehow. Someone used to say that to him. Someone else important.

He feels, rather than hears the other hiss soundlessly.

Ha! That's a key, isn't it? Fullmetal. It has to do with the answer.

It matters not. Even if we cannot keep you, there is always your brother.

I said leave Al out of this! He freezes. Al…Alphonse…that's his name, isn't it? And even before the other can answer, he knows it to be truth, for how could he not know his own brother? And with that come more scattered images surging forth from the sea foam of all knowledge like shells tossed up onto the beach of his mind. His mother. An all too brief period of contentment. Granny Pinako. Winry. The sharp pain of abandonment….

The voice returns more confidently: That is not your choice to make.

Like hell it isn't, I'm the head of the family. Ever since that bastard walked out on us, I've been the one in charge, and when it comes to my brother, what I say, goes. Got that, you smug asshole? I didn't ask to be here, but you brought me here so you'll just have to deal with _me_.

You came here of your own free will. Much like your father.

An instinctive revulsion: Don't you dare compare me with that jerk that walked out on us! He just left us, and I bet that's why mom got sick, he broke her heart…and suddenly his newly infinite mind understands the horror of what his father had done, understands why his mother had gotten so ill. A body cannot survive without energy, and the love of another is the most intoxicating, powerful form of energy there is in the world…. He has never been so glad to be bodiless, for he knows he would be retching otherwise. That bastard used her! Used her for his own purposes, made her sick, bled off her life's energies just to have enough power to open the Gate again? To come here? That was more important to him than his family?

He, at least, was willing to acknowledge his heart's desire for knowledge, to the point where he was willing to sacrifice those he loved in pursuit of the One Truth. Even your mother.

He was a self-serving _bastard_ who never understood knowledge without responsibility is a recipe for disaster. He was an _alchemist_, he had a duty - "Alchemist, be thou…for…the people…."

Ah.

That's it. I'm an alchemist. I'm…the Fullmetal Alchemist! Aren't I?

Do you even know what that means?

I….

How can you say you know who you are if you do not comprehend all that you are? Who are you?

An incoherent silent shriek of frustration: You are going to be sorry when I get my hands on you!

You don't have hands.

Not the point!

And the hands of time are not on your side right now.

Fine. I'm an alchemist, I'm going to figure this out from first principles. And you are going to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth or so help me….

Which answer did you want? The truth, the whole truth, or nothing but the truth?

You're even more of a bastard than he is, and that's saying a lot!

Who?

I…don't know. A sudden flash of prideful, mocking dark eyes that twinkle deep down in their midnight blue depths if you look hard enough, eyes that can be hard and cold, and gentle and warm, and seductive and compelling by turns. The joy of sparring with a worthy opponent, verbally, mentally, physically…and then the exquisite sensation of heat and the friction of skin against skin, and he gasps soundlessly as a phantom pain glows to life in what would be his chest if he still had one and takes away breath he does not have to spare. He is important, he knows he is. Him. Bastard Colonel. Roy. I have to get back to him, wherever he is – I promised! And then a question occurs to him: Where am I?

Here.

He has the sudden urge to clench his non-existent fists and plant them into a wall. Calm. It's just like research. Must stay focused. Despite the facetiousness of the answer, he senses a definite wariness about it, as though the other is worried that he has stumbled onto a promising line of inquiry, and that in and of itself is information. The thought flits across his mind: I used to do research, didn't I? I was good at it…they said I was…am a real prodigy. A smirk ghosts across metaphysical lips as he pursues his inquiry: Who are you?

A hesitation. All is one.

That is not an answer! The entire truth, damn it, or do I have to beat it out of you?

This plane lacks the physical realization necessary for that.

Really? Want to test the truth of that statement? _Please_ say yes.

The distinct impression of serious rapid reconsideration, and then: We are the one who joins this world to the next. The Alpha and Omega, the Aleph and Tau, the Beginning and the End, the Azoth. The Above and Below, the Ultimate Arcanum, the Eternal and Everlasting….

Okay, okay, I get the idea. You're another god-wannabe with delusions of grandeur. How do I always wind up attracting your kind? Just like that fraud in Lior…and suddenly a rush of memories overwhelms him as he sees the dazed look in the eyes of a girl, the lascivious leer of a self-proclaimed messiah, a monstrosity of a creature that should not have exist lunging for him, shaking him by the arm – and he wonders at that briefly, the feeling of having an arm, the physical weight of it – and then the rumbling voice of that arrogant fool, shot through with fear and shock "You are the Fullmetal Alchemist!" Edward Elric. The Fullmetal Alchemist.

And he…remembers.

"You have _got _ to be _fucking_ kidding me, I'm stuck in the _fucking_ Gate of Truth _again_? What the _hell_ do you want in exchange this time?"

* * *

"You have _got_ to be _fucking_ kidding me, he's stuck in the _fucking_ Gate of Truth _again_? What the _hell_ does it want in exchange this time?" 

Hawkeye didn't think she'd ever heard Alphonse Elric _cuss_ before. Swear, yes, oaths of loyalty, fealty, and all that, but this was definitely _cussing_. At least Al was no longer wholly intent on turning Envy into a colander, but on the other hand, he didn't look particularly pacified either, and the General's wary stance indicated that he was of much the same opinion. The thought suddenly crossed her mind that all this while, she had assumed that Edward was the volatile brother and Alphonse the stabilizing influence that anchored his brother and kept him from exploding; however, the actual particulars of the relationship might have been more of a two-way street than anyone had realized. While Alphonse manifested a more sanguine outlook on life than his choleric sibling, still waters ran deep, and now that the dam had burst on a tidal wave of anger and frustration, she had the sneaking suspicion that there was only one person in existence capable of turning the tide…well, maybe two, but as the other one and her wrenches were currently miles away in the relative safety of Risembool, it was really one, practically speaking. The not unimportant issue of that person currently being in limbo – or whatever you called it, she wasn't the State Alchemist here – as per the General's hypothesis not withstanding.

"I don't know," admitted Roy in frustration. "But the logic is irrefutable. Wrath was opening the Gate, in his mind, to obtain a soul with Ed as equivalent exchange. Wrath was taken, along with Ed's soul. But nothing's come back, which means…."

"The Gate is still open. And in that case, I know how to get Brother back," and Al was suddenly in motion, seizing the limp form of Envy by his dark, spiky locks and dragging him towards the prone figure of his brother. Roy raised an eyebrow and followed in his wake, carefully avoiding the small pebbles being thrown up by the apparently unconscious Homunculus's battered bouncing body as it skittered across the ground. For all that he loathed the creature, his ribs ached in sympathy.

"What do you intend to do, Alphonse?"

Al barely spared him a look, but the set of his jaw said quite clearly that he thought the General was being obtuse. "When the Gate took me when we tried to bring back Mama, Brother cut off his own arm in exchange for my soul and bound me to that suit of armour. This will be child's play by comparison. I'm going to give this piece of shit to the Gate, and that should tip the scales and force the Gate to release Brother's soul, which should naturally be drawn to its physical form. And if not, I'll bind him with a blood seal – better a few scars than being dead. I'll even give up an arm if I have to." He shook his head tiredly. "Trust Brother to have a soul so valuable it takes _two_ Philosopher's Stones to bring it back…or maybe it's because the stones the Homunculi have are imperfect…yes, that's probably it," and the stark dichotomy between what he was proposing to do and the mildness of his abstracted, musing tones left Mustang speechless for a moment.

"Al – you can't just sacrifice Envy to the Gate. Soulless or not, he's still alive. You don't perform transmutation on living beings!"

"Oh, we can fix the being _alive_ bit. Anyway, I'm not _transmuting_ him, I'm _exchanging_ him for Brother," Al explained in exaggeratedly patient tones, as if to a particularly slow child. "You want Ed back too…don't you?" and the grey eyes narrowed suspiciously as the broad shoulders hunched in paranoia. "Or were you getting _tired_ of him already, Mustang? Wanting to move onto your next conquest? Was he just another notch on your belt, oh mighty General? Is there any more room on it? I'm surprised your pants stay up as well as they do."

Roy blessed Hawkeye's foresight in sending the scouts off to report on the progress of their mission and the rest of the men away to form a defensive perimeter…and keep them out of earshot. The speed with which the military grapevine sprouted made weeds look like slackers, and while he was confident in his ability to control the details of his own reputation, the damage control he would have had to do to prevent rumours spreading about the homicidal, paranoid and all-around-_crazy_ Earth Moving Alchemist would have tested his powers of manipulation severely. Then again, it might simply have added to the catalogue of State-Alchemists-Gone-Wild. "If you're looking for sartorial advice, I favour braces myself. More tasteful, less constricting around the waist, and much faster to slip off should something…arise," he said flippantly, although he could hear the edge in his voice.

They had come up to the little depression in which Ed's body lay, and Al leapt lightly down, yanking Envy with him, his voice suddenly cut-glass bright again and insanely cheerful. "Whatever gets you off, General! I'm a little busy right now, so if you don't mind?"

"You're leaving me no choice, Al," and a wall of flames suddenly blazed up between Al and his brother's body, curving around on itself and encircling Ed's body in a ring of fire. Al dropped Envy in surprise and anger and turned to face Roy.

"Stop being so sanctimonious, _Flame Alchemist_. You're a killer countless times over. Even Brother's killed before. And this is a Homunculus – one more isn't going to make a difference." Al's eyes burned with a frightening righteousness, which was in and of itself disturbing, but what concerned Roy was the almost gleeful look in their charcoal depths.

"Ed only killed in self-defence, and he never _enjoyed_ the prospect of it, Alphonse," and Roy could see that his warning shot had hit home as the young man standing before him flinched. "You're coming dangerously close to crossing that line. Every time you kill, it takes a little piece of your soul with it - believe me, I know. And when you start to enjoy it…you become Kimblee. Ed wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

"Oh, so now you're the expert on what _my_ brother thinks because you _fucked_ him once?" snarled Al.

Roy's look became positively glacial, and his voice cracked out like the lash of a whip, that biting tone that he reserved for halting interminable staff meetings and putting pompous idiots in their place. "No, I'm the expert because I'm the only one thinking straight here. Grow up, Earth Moving Alchemist – this isn't about you and your claim to being the person closest to your brother – no one is disputing that!" His voice softened ever so slightly. "I would never stand in between the two of you, Al. I'm just asking you to stop and think for a moment – is this right? Even if you succeeded, could Ed live in peace knowing what you did to bring him back?"

* * *

Damn it! I'm going to kick my idiot brother's butt from here to Xing if he does anything stupid! And Roy's too, if he doesn't stop him. You! Put me back. _Now_. 

It is not within our power.

_Equivalent Exchange_ is all that you're about, you bastard. Don't try to weasel out of this. You've taken my arm, my leg, a Philosopher's Stone and even, for what it's worth, the spirit of that Homunculus. What more do you want from me? How long am I supposed to pay for that one mistake? Besides, I've answered your damn question – you said that was all I had to do to leave!

Your answer is incomplete. And the Gate needs you, Gatekeeper. Your brother has potential, yes, but you are…extraordinary.

_What_ did you call me?

Remember all, _Gatekeeper_.

And with that one command, he does. Four years of a life he knows intimately and yet not at all pummels his consciousness, smashing apart the shell of his identity and he would groan if he had the vocal chords for it. His shattered mind tries to piece together the whole, to join two disparate pieces of a life and smooth over the cracks, and as things come into focus, the two halves growl as one: Go to hell, you bastard son-of-a-bitch.

Somehow the sonorous tones manage to sound simultaneously irritated and hesitant: In a sense, this is hell. And heaven too. This is what comes…after. Most simply move on to the next plane without any knowledge of their past or their future. But those with potential…those who have pushed the boundaries of their own physical limits, who have shown an awareness of the energies that hold the universe together…those we test as Gatekeepers. And those who can transcend even that are offered an opportunity to join with the Gate. To be the source of infinite knowledge, to sit in judgment and balance the scales. We must constantly seek out such lives in order to renew ourselves. You earned that right when you were able to see in the cycle of destruction the seeds of your own resurrection.

I am _not_ becoming one of you creepy…watcher things. And what are you talking about…oh. That. When I forced the Gatestream back on itself…wow, it seems like eons ago. Far be it for me to demur at the compliment, but that was pure instinct. No real planning or stroke of inspiration. I was just pissed off. Sorry.

Precisely. Such potential must not go unfulfilled. This is not an honour bestowed lightly. You would give up the infinite knowledge that your father sought and never earned?

You can take your honour and stuff it up your…never mind, you're just going to say that on this plane, you don't have one. Although at this point, I'd happily tear you a new one. I already told you, I am _not_ my father. And knowledge is useless if it isn't being used for good, to help people, to make things better. I'll stick to my day-job, whatever it may be, thank you very much. _Now_ may I go?

We cannot guarantee that you will be given this chance again. You may lose your way when you return yourself to the physical plane. You would give all this up for ties to the material world?

I can't believe this, but I'm actually feeling sorry for you.

A distinct sense of confusion. What?

You…all of you pathetic little creatures…you've forgotten what it is to be truly alive. It's about not knowing what lies ahead but being brave enough to go forward anyway. It's about not knowing everything but striving to find out and enjoying the journey along the way. It's about making mistakes and falling down and picking yourself up and going on. It's about trusting another living being enough to be vulnerable. For all the pain that can cause, I'd choose that any day over sitting up here smugly in judgment, swapping atoms for atoms and body parts for souls.

The other sounds almost sorrowful: Such a waste.

He wishes uselessly for his material form in this place, so that he might roll his eyes testily: Whatever. Actually, it's a little insulting that you're under the impression I couldn't make it back here if I wanted to. But frankly, I'm kind of sick of this place, so could we get on with it? You've gotten your Equivalent Exchange, and I've wasted enough time here.

A ghostly, unheard sigh: Then…do you know who you are?

And he knows the answer now, knows it with every fibre of his being: I am whoever I choose to be – whole, complete, and unique. The thought is incredibly freeing, and he wants to laugh out loud.

He knows that if the other had a face, it would be smiling ruefully now. Indeed. Then perhaps we _shall_ meet again, Gatekeeper.

That's Fullmetal Alchemist _and_ Gatekeeper to you, asshole. Oh, and if you touch my brother, I _will _come back and hurt you. And with that parting shot, he relaxes and allows himself to…fall.

…_let me fall  
If I must fall  
I won't heed your warnings  
I won't hear them…._

_Let me fall  
Let me fly  
There's no reason  
To miss this one chance  
This perfect moment  
Just let me__…__fall…._

_

* * *

_

_The Ouroboros is the great serpent devouring itself, representing the idea that "All Is One," that the universe undergoes periodic cycles of destruction and creation (or resurrection)._


	21. Phoenix Rising

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Sorry this took so long, but this took a little more polishing than usual, because this is the chapter I've been dying to write since this story took off. There are some chapters that are just closer to my heart, and this one definitely holds a special place. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Oh, and many thanks to all those lovely people who wrote to tell me how much they enjoyed the darker take on Alphonse. Yay, fellow dark-Al fans! As for how that idea came about, it was the one line in the anime where Al tells Ed, "Still, if someone took you away from me, brother, I think I might do the same thing. Isn't that Equivalent Exchange?" and also where Al says, "You mentioned you had an older brother, didn't you? Then you should understand why I can't just stand by and watch my brother get killed…." If that isn't an ominous warning, I don't know what is! And come on…for those of you with siblings that you're close to, doesn't that just resonate deep inside with you?

Please do let me know what you think; a lot of work went into this instalment! And FYI, I'm going to be travelling this weekend with no access to my computer (eep!) so the next update may be a little delayed. But probably inside of a week, I hope! Unless I don't get enough reviews and go into a sulky spiral….

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.

* * *

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**_Chapter 21: Phoenix Rising_**

"Alphonse. My baby."

A soft voice intruded on the war of wills being waged between Fire and Earth. A kind voice, a gentle voice, loving and knowing and familiar, and Al froze, then slowly turned around, praying that he was wrong, praying that he was imagining things – and yet praying that he wasn't at all. His eyes fell on a slender figure with long brown hair, and he sank to his knees slowly, shaking his head. "Mama?" he asked in a small voice that suggested he was rapidly becoming accustomed to an intransigent world that insisted on playing musical chairs with his family members.

The form of Trisha Elric smiled. "Who else? Come here, Al, let me look at you. Oh, how I've missed you!" Her eyes were warm and welcoming, her arms open wide, and Al continued to shake his head bewilderedly as his mind rejected what his heart pleaded desperately to accept. No! Mama is dead! Dead! That's how this all started, that's how Brother lost his arm, that's how you wound up in that suit of armour for _four years_, remember? But it looked like her, and sounded like her, and….

A curl of fire flicked directly at the woman and she flinched backwards. "Al! Stop him, sweetheart, he's hurting me!"

Al's mouth opened and closed helplessly, but no words would come as he turned wild eyes towards Roy, who stood there, a flame flickering through his fingers, his other hand extended backwards protectively to shield Al. "That's not your mother, Alphonse. It's the Homunculus." His dark eyes narrowed menacingly. "Give it up Envy, your tricks won't work this time."

"Envy? What is he talking about, Alphonse?" the woman implored, reaching out towards Al, the eyes so like his own wide and dark with fear. "I'm your mother! Your brother did it, sweetheart, he brought me back! Equivalent exchange, remember? He gave up his life so we could be together again. Like it was before, remember? We'll go back to Risembool and our little house and everything will be just the way it was, won't that be lovely?"

Off to the side, Hawkeye chambered a round and brought her sidearm up to bear, but faltered as her CO's head snapped around. He met her gaze and shook his head once, urgently, and she slowly lowered her weapon as she followed his train of thought. Al was teetering on the brink already; the shock of seeing something that looked like his mother being killed before his eyes would probably not be the best thing for him at the moment. This was a war for his sanity that was being waged, and the frustrating thing was, there was absolutely nothing she could do to help.

Roy returned his attention to the kneeling young man. Al had wrapped his arms around himself and was starting to rock himself back and forth mechanically, his head bowed and his eyes in shadow. The General frowned as he recognized the first signs of shock setting in, and he glared at the Sin as it smirked triumphantly. "If you don't want to die painfully, _Homunculus_, I suggest you desist from this charade. It won't do you any good."

"A child's love for his mother is stronger than anything else, Flame Alchemist," was the sweetly poisonous reply. "Isn't it, Al? Just think, darling, make this horrid man go away, and we can be together again. Maybe we'll even be able to bring back your brother, and then the three of us can go back to the way things were after your father left, remember? We were happy, weren't we?" The figure of Trisha Elric smiled again, a cajoling, encouraging smile that almost – but didn't – reach her eyes as she held out her hands, palms up. "Come to mother."

"No."

The woman jerked back in surprise. "Alphonse…."

Al slowly raised his head, his grey eyes stormy and unfocused. "Our house isn't there anymore. Brother burned it down."

"Oh, that boy!" sighed the woman. "That's all right, Alphonse, you're as good an alchemist as he was, we'll have it rebuilt in no time, just the way it was. Don't worry so much, darling."

"No."

"Did I not teach you that it's rude to keep saying that, Alphonse?" came the gentle rebuke, although there was a definite edge to it. "Now listen to mother…."

"No! Brother burned it down to remind us that we can _never_ go backwards, only forwards," Al forced out between numb lips, voice rising with every strangled word. "He burned it down to remind us that there is no reliving the past, that there is only the present and the future to live for. You can't come back. We tried that…and we paid for it. Oh, we paid for it," and his eyes were glassy as he relived that terrible night eight years past. He looked up, choking back tears of pain and rage as his voice spiralled up into a shriek of overwhelming guilt and loss. "We can't go back to the way things were. We can't! Brother would never have tried that again. He never would have – and you're _not mama_!"

* * *

War is an ugly thing even when it is necessary. Men die in wars, not always for good causes. And the thing about war is, it tends to push men to their extremes; under the brutalities of war, men transcend the boundaries of civilization that normally bind them within the norms of what their societies consider appropriate behaviour. War drives some men to madness, turns others into monsters and unmasks streaks of cowardice long kept hidden. But it can also harden and reveal the true measure of a man, as a furnace can temper steel. And so it happens sometimes that in the flames of war, a boy becomes a man. A man becomes a hero. 

And sometimes...a hero becomes a legend. Especially when he rises from the dead.

The barest of twitches. And then a shiver. And then, with a violent convulsion, like a man coming up for air after being held underwater, Edward Elric threw back his head and gulped in a desperate lungful of air, coughing and spluttering. His skull throbbed miserably, his throat felt as parched and dry as an oven, the left side of his chest burned as though someone had just stuck him with a red-hot poker, and his back was hurting as though he'd just fallen on it from a great height. Was the ground always this hard? He tried opening an eye, but when a piercing pain spiked through his head from front to back, he promptly nixed that idea and settled for curling up and clutching at his head while he forced his breathing to slow and settle into a steady rhythm. That's right, you can do it…in…out…in…out…in…out…. The aching seemed to subside slightly, and he was able to roll over and sit up slowly, although he left his head between his knees. Breathe. In…out…wait a minute, why does the air smell like ozone? It was the same scent he used to savour during lightning storms as a child…the same smell that hung about every Gate as its energies bled off into the surrounding atmosphere and ionized the oxygen…the same clean sharp tang that Roy smelled of because his favoured form of alchemy involved manipulating the oxygen in his surroundings. _Especially_ when he exercised said favoured form of alchemy.

Oh. _Oh_. Very bad. Must get up. And ignoring the protests from his much-abused body, Ed pushed himself painfully to his feet, blinking furiously as he tried to clear his vision of the bright splashes that were punctuating the nauseating dizziness he was feeling. His body felt…odd. Like a suit of new clothes that fit perfectly and yet feel different from the old ones. He flexed his wrists experimentally, feeling the familiar-unfamiliar smooth leather of his gauntlets, worn and shaped perfectly to his forearms, wiggled the fingers of his right hand. It felt good to be able to feel the air against the back of his hand again, to have his arm be a part of him instead of a cold deadweight he lugged around and barely tolerated. But he only allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure before pulling his mind back to the situation at hand, to wit: he was currently encircled by a ring of leaping flames with no apparent means of egress; his brother was teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown as a Homunculus wearing the shape of his mother baited him; and his…his…bastard Colonel, he inserted mentally, for lack of a better appellation, was hesitating _again_. Half of him was vaguely relieved, since the thought of having to restrain both an uncontrolled Al and an enraged Flame Alchemist was quite exhausting, but the other half was darkly muttering something about hesitation being what got you killed.

He had the feeling that this strange duality of thought was going to persist for sometime. Oh well, he shrugged to himself – and suddenly thought that that too, was strange, this new fatalistic calm he seemed capable of assuming under pressure. A lot could happen in four years, it seemed. Not that it was going to stop him reaming out Alphonse and Mustang when he got to them. Ed glared balefully at the wall of flame before him and ticked off his options. Alchemy? A possibility, but as much as he hated to admit it, Mustang's alchemy could be particularly persistent, and he wasn't exactly in the best shape at the moment, which meant that conserving his energy for the coming fight might not be a bad idea. Teleportation? See previous thought. He _really_ wasn't particularly keen on the third option though…and then his decision was abruptly made for him as Al's voice wailed, "Brother!" and every nerve in his body snapped to a jarring alertness. Right.Third option it was then. Gathering his coat about him with one hand as he shielded his face with the other arm, Edward Elric gritted his teeth…and charged straight into the fire.

* * *

"If you really believe that, Alphonse, then you should kill me." Gentle grey eyes misty with tears fixed the young alchemist with a martyred look. "At least give me that. Don't let this murderer lay a hand on me! You know what he did to Winry's parents, I don't want to die that way." 

Roy realized to his alarm that his arm was shaking as he fought the instinctive guilt and forced down the bile that rose in his throat at the mention of the Rockbells. "Don't listen to Envy, Alphonse. He's just trying to manipulate you – you know your mother would never put you in a position like this!"

Al clapped his hands to his head, shaking it frantically as he tried to block out the conflicting demands of his head, his heart, his duty and his desires. It was all too hard, too much, how had Brother coped with the dichotomy? _Brother_…and he suddenly realized that the only thing he wanted, more than his mother, more than anything, was his Brother. His rock, his shield, the small fiery figure that made him feel safe and happy and at peace, even when mama had died and he had lost his body, he had always had his brother…and he wailed in a desperate cry from the heart, "Brother!" Surely his brother would hear him, surely he would come back for him, he always did, didn't he?

"He's not here, Alphonse," the figure of Trisha Elric said with mock sadness. "He's been taken by the Gate of Truth, remember? All we have is each other now. You and me, sweetheart. Come to mother."

"Oh please," came an irritated snort. "Give me some credit here. As if that pathetic Gate could actually keep me from Al."

Al looked up disbelievingly. "Brother?"

Roy wondered fleetingly if his heart was up to coping with the many shocks that had been thrown its way over the last few days.

Hawkeye totalled up her winnings and decided they would be enough to buy a new dress for when Havoc got around to taking her to dinner.

And the kind features of Trisha Elric twisted into a malicious grimace even as they morphed back into the feral face of Envy. "Why can't you just stay dead, _chibi-san_?"

Edward Elric stood before them all, golden eyes gleaming as his hair flew free in a aureate halo behind him, the end of his braid having been singed off by his impetuous plunge through the wall of fire. Small flames licked at the edge of his coat, blazing into life as he rapidly shucked coat and jacket and tossed them aside, the muscles of his arms tensing visibly as he snarled, "Who are you calling a midget so small he doesn't have to worry about being burned because he would fit into the space between two sparks?" The high colour in his cheeks from the heat of the fire and the physical exertion gave him the look of an earthbound avenging angel as he stomped forward, features fixed in a familiar scowl.

"Brother!" Al crowed in relief as he lurched forward and threw his arms around Ed. "It _is_ you!"

Ed stumbled, startled, but returned the hug firmly, almost giddy at the feel of Al in the flesh. He had done it, he had brought his brother back! Just being able to feel Al's body radiating warmth and breath made all the madness and uncertainty of the past four years worthwhile. "Yeah, Al. It's me. I'm back, and I won't leave you again, I promise, all right?" He reached up – still shorter, damn it! – and ruffled his brother's darker blonde hair affectionately. "Winry would kill me if I did, I think."

"How touching of you to want to protect your brother, _chibi-san_," hissed the dark-haired Sin. "But as your older brother of sorts, I feel completely justified in disciplining my _little_ brothers – and you've both been very, very _uncooperative_!" With that, he lunged towards them, dodging a blast of flame, his hands stretching and reforming into sharp scythes, reaching out for the two brothers – and closed on empty air as Ed reacted instinctively.

Al squeaked and blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself standing next to Mustang, who started in equal surprise as Ed released his brother and shoved him brusquely towards the General. "You. Make yourself useful and watch him. Leave the fighting to me." With that the Gatekeeper-Alchemist disappeared, reappearing behind the stunned Homunculus, who began to turn, only to find himself being spun around by an irate blonde who growled into his face, popped a blade out of his gauntlet and shoved it right through the Sin's gut.

Envy stared blankly at the thin blade that impaled him through his bare midriff, the blue steel crackling with alchemic energy like pale fire. He could see runes engraved into the cold metal, which felt almost as icy as the look in the golden eyes that stared at him with thinly concealed contempt. "My _name_," said the owner of those eyes coldly, "is _Edward_ _Elric_. Some know me as Auric, the Gatekeeper. Others call me the Fullmetal Alchemist. But it is most definitely not '_chibi-san_', you miserable excuse for a stunted half-brother."

"Aw, you wound me, _chibi_-_san_. Is this about me killing you the last time?" Envy deadpanned, even as his eyes flicked wildly from side to side, seeking an escape. Yet somehow he knew with an oddly fatalistic certainty foreign to him that there was going to be no last-minute out this time, no sudden reversal of fortune. And judging from the look in the _chibi-san_'s eyes, he knew that Envy knew. The blonde smiled, a wolfish smile that showed all his teeth but didn't reach his eyes.

"No, this is about you calling me short, you underdeveloped piece of badly dressed trash. But_ this_," Ed said with eerie calm, "_this_ is for the last time. Dying _fucking_ hurt, asshole. And payback's a _bitch_." And with that, he slammed the flat of his palm into the Homunculus's chest, wrapping his mind around the energy he could feel radiating from the Philosopher's Stone embedded within and drawing it to him and through him even as the Sin writhed and shrieked, pinioned in this parody of a lover's embrace. Their faces were so close that Ed swore he could feel the dying breaths of the Homunculus fanning across his lips as he drew them back in a snarl, and then the weight on his arm was abruptly gone, the Homunculus disintegrated into a mess of quivering organic ooze that dripped off his blade. He deliberately stepped on the dull reddish-brown stone that fell at his feet and ground it into dust, glaring balefully at the miserable remains that lay scattered about.

"Go join our father in hell, or whatever plane lies beyond. If it accepts your kind, that is." And Ed turned away, breathing heavily as he carefully released the excess energies drawn off into the atmosphere and the earth. He glanced down at the bloody dagger still protruding from his gauntlet, made a moue of disgust, and briefly touched his left hand to the flat of the blade in an absent gesture. A crackle of blue alchemic energy and the steel was wiped clean but for the arrays clearly traced upon its gleaming surface. Catching Hawkeye's stunned gaze, the blonde man shrugged with a mix of sheepishness and wry amusement as he sheathed the blade and readjusted the gauntlet on his arm. "What can I say, Lieuten…sorry, Captain, always be prepared. Good motto for most things in life."

"Indeed," came a low drawl as soft and dark as velvet. "Do you apply that philosophy to your…personal life as well? Because if so, there's something I'd like to see you about in private…." Hawkeye coughed discreetly as Ed rolled his eyes and turned to face his sometime nemesis.

Roy cocked his head to one side and allowed himself to enjoy the view of the slender figure relaxed in an insouciant slouch that managed to convey exasperation and resignation at the same time, hands shoved deep into pockets, brows bracketed by long bangs of gold fluttering gently in the breeze arched in a sardonic expression. "I seem to recall telling you earlier to get your mind out of the gutter, and that's three you owe me, bastard. You're starting to get careless, old man – I told you not to assume I'm always going to be around when you need saving!"

"Oh? So you feel that a mere near-death experience negates our contract?" Roy asked archly. "How…disappointing. I had hoped for better from a representative of the Gatekeepers Guild…and from _you_. Fullmetal."

A growl that would have made a lesser man quail rumbled up from somewhere deep in Ed's throat. "I'm doing this for Al, asshole. Maybe if you were a more worthwhile client instead of a total _bastard_ _Colonel_…." But his gaze softened ever so slightly as he took in the welcome sight of the man he had never thought to see again, battered, bruised, covered in dust and grime, exhaustion written in the hollows of his pale cheeks and the shadows under his eyes - and for all that, still an undeniably striking figure. How did he manage to wear all those cares with as much grace as he would princely robes of the very finest silk from Xing? As he did all his burdens, even those he carried for other people, as he had the fears and hopes of an angry child who had grown up to be a wiser man now capable of recognising the immense gift he had been given – and who was now ready and willing and able to choose to give something back.

One corner of Roy's mouth curled up, very, very slightly. "_I_ seem to recall telling _you_ once that you had taken too long to show up - I've been promoted to Major General, you know. And are you saying that I don't deserve you?" he asked mildly as he reached forward and brushed a lock of hair back from Ed's forehead in order to see those amazing golden eyes better. Eyes that glowed with an inner fire, that could be frightening in their intensity and yet were now soft and warm and filled with an emotion that Roy didn't want to name, didn't want to believe because it made you vulnerable, left you open to hurt and pain and sorrow, to the staggering realization that someone out there could look at you, warts and flaws and sins and all and love you for you, for all that you were, and for all that you would be. And yet he knew he no longer had a choice in the matter. He'd become a believer a long time ago.

Ed's eyes glinted with an unfathomable expression. "Damned straight." He let that hang in the air for a moment, then sighed and reached a hand up to cup Roy's cheek, smiling faintly as the taller man turned his face slightly to nuzzle into the palm of his very human right hand, luxuriating in the sensation of being able to feel Roy's breath whisper against his skin. And then Roy's hand gently wrapped around his own, drawing it away enough for him to press his lips to the sensitive skin of the inner wrist, and Ed's breath hitched as the tip of Roy's tongue flicked out to deliver a playful caress. "But then you always were a lucky bastard, Roy Mustang." And with that he reached up determinedly with his other hand and pulled Roy down to be kissed, straight on, without hesitation, or fear, or doubt.

Strangely enough, this sight seemed to arouse no great consternation amidst the captivated audience of soldiers drawn back by the sounds of the battle. Instead, they were fixated on an entirely different subject. "I can't believe the Fullmetal Alchemist rose from the dead," whispered one of the men fearfully behind Al. "Does…is it those watches they give State Alchemists?" He flinched as Hawkeye drew and cocked her sidearm meaningfully, not seeing the amused look in the Captain's eyes as she mentally put odds on the speed with which the news of the miraculous resurrection of Edward Elric was going to spread through the military grapevine. At this rate, Roy would be Fuhrer before they made it back to camp.

Al watched as Roy and Ed leaned on each other, resting in each other's embrace, foreheads touching, not moving, just finding a separate peace with each other in a place between for the first time in what seemed like forever. It just seemed…right somehow, that these two would find love amidst the madness of war. His eyes filled with tears, but he made no move to wipe them away as he cleared his throat, remembering what he had said many years ago.

"Rings and watches have nothing to do with it. My brother's…the Fullmetal Alchemist."

* * *

_The Phoenix renews itself every 500 years by immolating itself on a pyre and rising from its own ashes. In alchemy, it symbolizes the rebirth of the spirit from out of the crucible of transformation. The alchemists in meditating on processes in their flasks threw themselves into a sea of strange experiences, and as they worked these within their meditations and sought to grasp the inner parallels and significance of each of the stages of the process they had embarked upon, in a sense they experienced an inner death and rebirth in attaining the Philosophers' Stone. This stone was actually experienced as the formation of a solid ground within the shifting sea of their inner world. Once this solid ground in the soul was found, the alchemists were able to take hold of their lives in a creative way, they could root their spirit on a solid foundation or ground of inner experience. _


	22. Everything Old Is New Again

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

First of all, a big Thank You to everyone who reviewed the last chapter; I'm glad so many of you liked it as much as I did. In many ways, it would be the perfect ending, and for those of you who feel that way, please do feel free to regard Chapter 21 as such, because I have to admit I was in two minds about it myself. It's always nice to go out on a dramatic comeback, a romantic conclusion, a theatrical quote. But as much as I love happy endings, I just thought there were a couple more things to explore. I've always been one of those people who wonders, "What happens _after_ ever?" So Ed has his memories back – does he just pick up where he left off? His grand quest to restore his brother's body is done – what does one do when one's heart's desire is fulfilled? Real life isn't neat that way. If it were, I wouldn't be posting this so late. My life has recently gotten a little more complicated, so updates will be a little more infrequent going forward, sorry. But as our heroes do, we soldier on, for ultimately roads are made for journeys, not destinations…. Glad to have you all on this one with me! Much love tomy faithful reviewers, and a hello to the new fellow-travellers who've come on board and stopped by to tell me they liked the previous chapters. Stick around, we've got a little ways to go yet on this train – NF.

* * *

**_Chapter 22: Everything Old Is New Again_**

"Uh-huh. Yeah, it really is me, Winry. Ed, not Auric…well, kind of Auric too, but that's a story for…yes…ow…Winry…please stop yelling, I didn't exactly _choose_ to lose my memories and wind up stranded on the next plane over for…yes, I know Al was upset…." Edward Elric shifted uncomfortably and moved the phone from one side of his face to the other, his neck craned at an awkward angle as he sat on the corner of Mustang's desk, receiver pinned between ear and shoulder. Alphonse hovered by sympathetically, wincing as he caught the faint, shrill echoes of his wife's voice and a couple of clashing noises probably caused by said wife flinging wrenches about in agitation. His brother rolled his eyes at him as he obediently grunted asset into the mouthpiece, "Yes. Yes, I'm going to be careful. No, I realize that I've probably exhausted my supply of return tickets from the Gate – although this time it really wasn't my…all right! I promise! Listen, we don't have much time, so give my love to the kid and to Granny Pinako, and I promise I'll come see you all the moment the bastard Col…General gives me leave, all right?" He cringed as a screech was heard, then, "Al _enlisted_, Winry. And technically, I was always MIA, so I'm still in the…oh, listen, isn't that Winnie crying? You should go check on her, I'll get Al to call you back, all right? Bye!" And he hung up with indecent haste, a hangdog look on his face. "I'm away four years, and nothing's changed with that woman. I swear, I think she's annoyed I no longer have automail so that she can use it to get back at me!"

Al grimaced sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, brother. She was the one who held it together when you first returned as Auric, so I guess this is delayed stress relief. She really missed you the past four years, you know. We both did." His eyes lingered happily on his brother's figure, as though looking away would make Ed vanish again. Since his brother's return from the Gate of Truth, Al had taken to sticking closer than a shadow, especially during the long journey back from the Battlefield Of The Drachman Rout to Central, keeping gawking sycophants away from him and firmly vetoing any suggestions that Ed open a Gate to speed up the triumphant return. And to be fair, Ed hadn't exactly tried to dissuade him of the idea, since he had been very, very tired at the time. Not to mention that if he never opened a Gate again, it would be much too soon.

"She missed having someone to abuse, more like," Ed huffed acerbically as he shook out his shoulder and rolled his head from side to side to work the kinks out. Since their return to Central, the brothers had, in addition to being hounded by the propaganda machine with countless requests for interviews and public appearances, been inundated with rebuilding and restoration duties owing to the lack of qualified alchemists, and what little spare time they had was generally spent passed out in exhaustion. It had been a good week before they had found the time to spare a thought for their family and friends in Risembool; unfortunately, what was supposed to have been a quick call to home to let everyone know they were all right and had won the war had turned into a marathon phone session once Al had let slip that Ed now remembered everything. It was a good thing they had been able to borrow Mustang's office and phone rather than tie up the one in the Officers' Mess. Not that anyone would actually have dared to interrupt the Fullmetal and Earth Moving Alchemists, but there would have been a distinct lack of privacy, and Ed wasn't particularly keen to have his reputation tarnished by the knowledge that there _was_ one person he was afraid of, and that it was a _she_ to boot. "I can't believe mama used to think we'd wind up married. I always knew it would be you, Al, you're the only one calm enough to keep her grounded! We'd _kill_ each other before the day was out."

"So you aren't…upset?" Al asked cautiously.

Ed looked bewildered. "Why would I be? She's a good friend, Al, but I've never been in love with her. If anything, I'm happy you two have each other…it makes me feel less guilty about the last four years." His face darkened. "I'm sorry I left you alone, Al - I just couldn't face living without you…you were always the stronger one that way."

"Now you're being silly," said Al morosely. "You did it to save me. Given what I was prepared to do when I thought…you had died again…" and his face clouded with guilt in an eerie mirror of his brother's. "At least you didn't try to hurt anyone the way I did."

"Stop it," Ed urged softly but firmly. He reached out and lifted his brother's chin with one hand, forcing silver to meet gold. "You were upset. It's over now, and I'm back, and you aren't a killer. What's past is past. Let it go."

Al shook his head in distress. "But the thing is, brother…I know I could have been. I was so close…the General was trying to stop me, and I wouldn't listen…it was like I was a whole other person, and all I could think about, more than seeing Winry and Winnie again, was that I had to bring you back, that I didn't care what I had to give up as long as I could have you back, that I wanted you back more than mama even…and suppose you _had_ been dead and I'd brought you back as a Homunc…."

"Stop it." The flatness of Ed's tone arrested Al effectively in mid-sentence. He stared in wonder at the austere set of his brother's face, brows drawn together over eyes now dark amber with emotion. "You wouldn't have done anything so stupid, Al, I'm the rash one, remember? Just accept that you were…a little distressed at the time, and leave it at that. Brooding won't alter the past. Fate is – we can but change how we deal with it." For an instant, the inescapably weary fatalism of a Gatekeeper flickered across Ed's features even as he forced a too-bright smile, trying to lighten the sombre mood. "And I didn't cuss out the Gate of Truth to get back here only to listen to you beat yourself up. Anyway, that bastard General would have stopped you – I can't believe I'm saying this, but he's a half-decent alchemist when he quits fooling around and gets down to business."

"Thank you. I think." Roy Mustang stood in the open doorway, leaning up bemusedly against the doorframe. "In which case, if you're quite done using my phone, may please I have my office back so that I may work on becoming half-decent before Hawkeye shoots us both?" He inclined his head fractionally to one side as he acknowledged Alphonse absently, but most of his attention was focused on the older Elric, who flushed under his silent regard. There was something inherently intimate about the close study of another, thought Roy absently as his eyes traced the pleasing planes of Ed's now-adult face. The fine, almost invisible hairs along his cheekbones and along his collarbone seemed almost to glow in the sunlight and highlight the elegance of the fine bones under the fair skin – it was odd, but since Ed's return from the Gate, his physical presence, always startlingly beautiful, had become even more heightened. And Roy didn't think it was just him – he was sufficiently clued into the military grapevine to know that the astounding good looks of the Fullmetal Alchemist was a popular topic of discussion among officers and enlisted men alike.

Ed snorted. "Why bother? It's a lost cause – you're always going to be an indecent bastard. Can't believe they made you Fuhrer-elect. Come on, Al, let's go to the gym for a bit; I need to hit something hard." His golden locks, a little shorter now as a result of the ends being burnt off, were still long enough to be spilling over his shoulders, and he pulled them back into a ponytail with unnecessary vigour as he slid gracefully off the corner of the desk. Stray glittering strands gleamed in the fat beams of late afternoon sunlight that poured in through the huge windows and backlit his slender figure, making him look as though he were a statue gilded in gold. The alchemist in Roy likened it to the perfection of a metal by fire – pure, unsullied, revealed in all its glory – even if Ed had taken it to its literal extreme by plunging into fire. Pity about the hair, but it would grow back soon enough. Actually, with his hair bound back, Ed looked very much as Auric had at their first meeting – irritated, troubled, wary…and lost. But why the last? Edward Elric was finally home, after all, whole in body and spirit, and reunited with his brother. His dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly in consideration of this new problem even as he pushed off the doorframe with feline grace and stalked across the carpet towards his prey.

"Indecent? Not yet, but I'd be…happy to work on it. And I still have the bottle of port I took off Maes if you're interested in helping out…."

Al frowned as he watched his brother's expression tighten almost imperceptibly at the General's insinuation – the familiar sniping that seemed to be his brother's favoured style of communication with the General seemed a little…off, somehow. Almost half-hearted, as though Ed were merely playing a role he felt was expected of him. Come to think of it, after that dramatic and very public display of affection when he had essentially returned from the dead, Ed had held himself aloof from Mustang, and as far as Al was aware, had avoided speaking to the man except on official business, and even then always in the company of others. He simply hadn't thought about it before because they had been so busy, and Ed's behaviour could have been attributed to fatigue, or a desire to appear professional, or simple preoccupation with the rebuilding effort – his brother could be very single-minded when focused on the task at hand. But in light of the odd tension in the air, he was quite certain it was his brother and not the General who was being stand-offish, which was odd because Ed was usually very decided about his likes and dislikes. And Al was pretty sure Roy was a like.

"Sorry. Busy," said Ed shortly, and Al started, because for a moment his brother had sounded less like the Ed of his memories and more like the Auric he had come to know. "Come on, Al. Thanks for the use of the office, Mustang," and he was out the door, his hunter-green cloak flying out behind in his wake. The moment they had gotten back to Central, Ed had shed the standard-issue black trench that he had been forced to use after losing his coat to fire and insisted on adopting Auric's old cloak with a stubbornness that Al knew better than to question. So instead he watched. And he wondered if the General had noticed Ed's strangeness as well.

Concerned grey eyes met midnight ones in whose dark depths lurked glints of puzzled hurt and worry. So he had noticed. "Don't worry, sir, I'll find out what's wrong with brother. He's been…tetchy ever since we returned to Central, and we've been busy, preparing for your inauguration and helping out with the rebuilding effort," Al offered wanly, wanting to console the older man. "You'd better get to work before Captain…um, I mean, Major Hawkeye gets angry, there's a lot to do before the ceremonies for your official promotion to Fuhrer next week." And with that he hurried after his brother, feeling the Fuhrer-elect's stare boring a hole between his shoulder blades.

* * *

"Yo, boss," Havoc greeted the lithe blonde with a lazy stream of smoke as he stomped past his desk. Ed turned, smiling tightly as his nose wrinkled up in disgust. 

"Captain. Still playing with fire, I see. Thought I told you to give up the cigarettes; I knew I should have made the recommendation for promotion contingent on _something_." He frowned. "Wait a minute, when did they let you out of hospital?"

"Couple of hours ago. And I was bored sitting in the BOQ with nothing to do, so I thought I'd come help out with Mustang's big party plans – the inauguration ceremonies, I mean," he amended hurriedly as Ed's expression darkened further. "Geez, boss, what's eating you? You seem a little uptight – but don't worry, I'm sure the General will have much more time for you once he's Fuhr…." A sharp gunshot and his cigarette vanished from his lips, snapped in two by a bullet that had barely squeaked past his suddenly pale face. "Riza! What was that for?"

Newly minted Major Hawkeye stepped into the office, eyes narrowed as she reholstered her pistol. "Primarily for smoking in the office. Secondarily for embarrassing _Lieutenant Colonel_ Elric. Lastly, because you're _here_ instead of in your quarters on bed-rest as the doctor ordered. Any other questions, Captain?"

"No, ma'am!" snapped Havoc and Edward simultaneously. The taller of the two smiled winningly at his girlfriend. "I love it when you talk tough."

Hawkeye's lips twitched, but her gaze remained stern. It felt good to have things returning to normal – or as normal as a change of regime and a new relationship could get. "Fine. Then get your feet off that desk and start working on the security details for the inauguration ceremonies, Captain. And as for you, Colonel…."

"Actually, I'm headed to the gym with Al," said Ed hurriedly. Make that _two_ people, both female, that the Fullmetal Alchemist was afraid of. "Oh look, here's Al now. I'll be going now, perhaps I'll see you in the mess later?" Alphonse smiled in greeting as he came up behind his brother. Hawkeye had to smile back – the young man just had such a sweet, easygoing way about him - but she had to admit, ever since she had seen what Alphonse was capable of when enraged, she couldn't quite look at that mild, unassuming face the same way. The bond between the brothers was almost palpable when you saw them together, and she marvelled again at the way they kept each other anchored. Or was contained a better word? The pair turned as one towards the door, but stopped short in their tracks as a shadow fell across the carpet.

"Hello, happy campers, I come bearing gifts!" boomed the hearty voice of Maes Hughes as he came through the door. "The latest pictures of Alicia, taken while we were away!" His eyes twinkled behind their square frames, happily ignoring the panicked, wide-eyed expressions that greeted him.

"Oh…um…that's nice, but we were _just_ going to the gym!" said Al with just a shade too much enthusiasm. "Exercise! Good for the body. Right, brother?"

Ed nodded enthusiastically as he opened his mouth to agree, but was beat to the punch by Maes. "Oh, Alicia's very good at sports – in fact there are some here of her playing tennis! Excellent hand-eye coordination and balance. Which reminds me, Ed, how is yours?"

The Fullmetal Alchemist blinked. "What?"

"Well, I've just come from a meeting to discuss Roy's swearing-in, and everyone agrees that it would be incredibly symbolic and very good propaganda if you'd attend the inauguration – and even better if you'd swear him in. Normally we'd have a judge do it, or possibly a priest, but after that debacle in Lior, it's felt that it would be best for the government to appear as secular as possible. And science - Alchemy - is our highest allegiance in this country. After Amestris itself, of course."

Al looked nervously over at his brother, who was _not_ looking thrilled. In a sign of how much had changed in the last four years though, at least he wasn't blowing anything up. "Maes…I hate this sort of thing. Pomp and circumstance and all that. Surely there must be more senior alchemists available. Plus…I'd be swearing in that smirking bastard. He'd smirk. I'd want to hit him. This is a bad idea."

"More senior, but not more exalted. You're a legend, Edward - the people have claimed you as their own. Would it kill you to lend Roy a little of your star power? It never hurts to start off being Fuhrer on the right foot, after all."

"He's got more than enough of his own." Ed's face had gone strangely expressionless, thought Maes, puzzled. He thought his friend and Ed had finally reached an understanding of sorts – in fact, he'd been planning to have them over to dinner with Gracia before the inauguration, maybe even have Riza and Jean over too, and Al and Winry – Gracia was always going on about how they didn't entertain enough or go out with other couples. What was going on? "But fine, I'll do it. Someone has to be around to take him down a peg or two in case his head starts to swell during the ceremony. And I should be around to ensure my…Auric's…contract is appropriately dissolved."

Maes nodded slowly, still digesting Ed's sudden reserve. "You'll have to wear a dress uniform, of course. Sorry."

The blonde man shrugged. "You already have my measurements," he pointed out, the careful neutrality of his tone all the more accusing. "Just make sure someone tells me which bits of ribbon go where – I hate those fiddly little things. And don't even think of forcing a regulation haircut on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Maes laughed. "Your hair is your signature, Ed. And Roy would kill me." There it was again, that blank look that said the wearer was hiding something. It was strangely familiar though – and then he had it. It was the same look Roy had worn around Auric initially, when he had been determined not to impose his feelings for Ed on the Gatekeeper. But what did it mean coming from Ed? Everyone that mattered already knew about the feelings between the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists, so it couldn't be that, surely?

Ed growled and turned on his heel. "If anyone else needs me," and the flatness in his tone suggested that it would be greatly to their advantage _not_ to need him for a while, "I'll be at the gym with Al." His back disappeared out the door, Al following, and then Ed's face reappeared in the doorway, scowling. "Hey – what did you mean about my balance? And for your information, it's just fine, thank you very much."

Maes looked meaningfully at Hawkeye, who glared meaningfully at Havoc, who pursed his lips around a fresh cigarette and winked meaningfully at Fury, the only member of the office who had been silent thus far. The bookish young man squirmed uncomfortably under Ed's baleful gaze, looking hopefully about for help but finding none. Finally, he squeaked, "Well…you see, the Fuhrer is sworn in on a copy of the Constitution…and it's a rather _large_ tome, and you'd be holding it in one hand since you'd have your other hand raised for the oath-taking…and…and…."

A familiar roar. Some things were different, Maes decided – and he was going to figure out why - but on the other hand, some things would simply never change.

"Who are you calling _short?_"


	23. Where Do We Go From Here

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Less of a note, more of a plug. Announcing a change to the opening theme song for Full Circle! It's now Loop And Loop by Asian Kung-fu Generation (same band that did Rewrite), which is the last track on their latest album, _Sol-fa_. If you haven't heard it, go find it – the entire album is awesome, but for some reason this song really sticks in my head. The lyrics are also incredibly appropriate (the record label has an official translation up on their website for anyone who's interested). And for the one person who asked me about a closing theme song, from the same album, third track, To Your Town – Kimi No Machi Made.

Oh, and I'm glad that so many of you concur that there is still a story to be told. Please do leave me a review to let me know what you think, because I like hearing from different perspectives. By the way, I'm going to be travelling to Japan for a little over a week, leaving on Friday, so there's going to be a definite break before the next update. And yes, I'm very excited about the trip! See you all when I get back! Much love –NF.

p.s. And a heartfelt Thank You to all the lovely people who wrote words of encouragement. Yes, life does get turbulent sometimes, but the good news is, there is an end in sight – come early June, I'll be free! Slogging along until then.

* * *

**_Chapter 23: Where Do We Go From Here?_**

Punch. Punch. Front kick.

Edward Elric sucked a breath of air into his lungs as he brought himself back into a ready position, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet. His chest was heaving harder than usual, he noted in annoyance – he was evidently still feeling the after-effects of the various beatings it had taken at the front, and resurrection was bound to be hard on a body. The skin above his heart burned as it had when he had first returned, and he longed to stop for a moment to rub at it and try to soothe the pain away, but didn't drop his hands from their guard position. He knew he was probably pushing too hard too quickly, but when had that ever stopped him? Not to mention, if he suddenly clutched at his chest, he was pretty sure one of the Elrics would have a heart attack, and it wouldn't be him, and he'd have a hell of a time explaining to Winry how he'd accidentally killed Al.

* * *

"Roy. You should take a break, you've been working like a madman for the past couple of days." Maes Hughes stood just inside the door, his face genial as usual but his eyes dark with concern as they took in the too-thin frame of his closest friend and superior officer. He had stopped by the infirmary on his way over to get a status report on the Fuhrer-elect, and while the doctors had assured him that Roy was on the mend from his injuries, they had also expressed concern over the man's general state of health. He knew Hawkeye would make sure that Roy was eating regularly, if not always healthily, but he needed more than food. The shadows under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks screamed a need for rest. The Brigadier was suddenly struck by the realization that they were so very much older than they had been all those years ago when they had first met and sworn an oath that would change the course of their world. Older, but perhaps no wiser, he thought wistfully.

Roy looked up irritably, his mouth bracketed by thin, deep-set lines of fatigue – and something else? "Don't you ever knock? Or is my first edict as Fuhrer going to have to be a standing order for all men to knock on the damned door before entering my office?" He caught himself swearing and stopped, looking surprised.

"I did knock. You didn't hear me," his friend pointed out, strolling across the carpet and dropping himself unceremoniously into a chair. "Which just goes to prove my point. You're losing your edge, pushing yourself this hard – much more of this and you'll be useless to anyone. Let your staff do some of the work, for crying out loud, that's what they're there for. You aren't fully healed yet, you know – I'm surprised you're even able to sign papers, let alone write anything."

"There's too much to do right now, I can't…."

"Oh yes, you can. Relax. Father Hughes has everything under control. Armstrong is finishing up the plans for rebuilding and will have them to you for review in the morning. Havoc is working on security arrangements, for now, the ceremony, and after - you know you're going to have to have a personal guard at all times from now on, don't you? Hawkeye has logistics, and Fury has shown a remarkable aptitude for diplomacy, so I've put him to work handling the emissaries from the various other states. Even Xing is sending a delegation to attend, just so you know. And you should give me a medal for this one - I've even persuaded the Fullmetal Alchemist to participate in your inauguration."

Roy blinked, leaning back in his chair. "What?"

"You know, that big party next week, the ceremony that represents the crowning achievement of everything we've been working for since Ishbal? The one where you become supreme ruler of all Amestris and change this country for the better?" Maes waved an arm vaguely in the direction of the windows which framed a shimmering image of Central City, the buildings glowing red and gold as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon.

A withering look. "Maes. What…exactly…did you mean by having Fullmetal participate?"

The big man beamed. "Why, he's going to swear you in! Brilliant piece of propaganda, even if I do say so myself. "

Roy closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly and wished for a fresh cup of coffee. While he knew he could simply call out for it, none of his staff could make it quite the way he preferred. Which just happened to be the way Edward Elric and his alter-ego Auric made it. Black, aromatic, so strong that the oils formed a cocoa-coloured swirl on the surface and a kick like a mule. He suspected getting it exactly that way involved a bit of eggshell, but he'd never found the right time to ask for the technique. "Maes. Far be it for me to burst your bubble, but given the mood Fullmetal's been in lately, I suspect he'll be cursing me out, not swearing me in."

"_So_ glad you brought that up, Fuhrer-elect," purred Maes, his eyes vanishing behind the reflection of the sunset in his glasses. "Now, tell Father Hughes all about the trouble in paradise." He held up a stack of photo albums, letting them drop to the table before Roy's horrified gaze. "Or else we could go over my latest pictures of Alicia…and by the way, this is a second set, so they're fully expendable."

Roy decided that he had been wrong about his first edict as Fuhrer. After the damned inauguration…if he survived the damned inauguration…he was going to have it enshrined _in_ _law_ that Maes Hughes was strictly forbidden from bringing any photos of his family within fifty feet of the Fuhrer.

* * *

Duck. Jab. Jab. Right punch. Roundhouse kick.

He could feel his muscles starting to burn, feel them start to weigh down on him as heavily as automail would have, but chose to ignore the pain determinedly as he focused on the punching bag before him, which was starting to look much the worse for wear. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alphonse standing by the free-weights pretending to be working on his upper body, but it was blatantly obvious that what he was really doing was watching his older brother obliquely in the mirrors. Al could be such a mother hen, damn it. He glared at the punching bag and hit it harder than was purely necessary. His knuckles whimpered in protest as he had eschewed gloves and opted merely to tape his hands. Normally he would have forgone even that: you weren't exactly going to be able to tell your enemy to take a moment while you taped your hands, and it would prevent him from using other weapons, but Al had insisted and Ed had been too tired to argue. Besides, he wasn't planning on sparring today anyway – he just wanted to focus on letting out his frustrations on something inanimate.

Hook. Hook. Block. Front kick. Side kick. Turning kick.

It was an odd sensation, to be doing something that came so smoothly as to be instinctive, and yet to know that this wasn't something he had learned – at least, not before those four years spent as someone else. His style had always been scrappier, learned out of necessity and designed to make fullest use of his automail and ability to perform alchemy sans arrays. This new-old skill was more elegant, definitely the product of intensive training – he even remembered learning it from an older female Gatekeeper named, for whatever odd reason, Izzy – but just as lethal. Izzy had also taught him to use his _sais_, and he remembered well the painful process of learning to use them – and learning to avoid having them used on you. He had the scars to prove it. And you never forgot taking a punch from Izzy. She made Armstrong look like a 90-pound weakling, and she'd taught him how to throw his weight behind his blows. A faint smile crossed his face as he remembered her lecturing with asperity, "So you don't have as much weight on you as some – so what? Use your agility to your advantage and just make each pound _count_." He didn't even mind the implications about his height coming from _her_.

* * *

"And you're _sure_ you didn't say something about his height."

"For the last time, I. Did. Not. Why are you assuming that his mood has anything to do with something I did, anyway?" Coffee. Any kind. Roy issued an order tersely through the intercom, and Hawkeye must have picked up on his foul state of mind, because the coffee that appeared almost immediately was halfway decent. They must have sent out for it ahead of time. Which would mean, he realized belatedly as he sipped at his cup and felt dormant brain cells kick into gear, that they had known all along what Maes was planning to do.

Traitors.

Maes sat back frowning. "Because it usually does. Even when he was younger, Roy. You never noticed?"

"I never imagined. You know that." Roy didn't have to say anything else as Maes met his gaze with understanding, then looked away tactfully. For all his guile and cunning, for all his talent at reading and manipulating others, Roy had been utterly blindsided by the realization that the one person he had always thought of as untouchable, the one person to whose presence he had thought he would always be uninvited, could and did share his feelings. Or had, anyway. He was beginning to wonder if he had utterly misread the situation.

"Well. Let's work on the assumption that it has nothing to do with you then," the Brigadier said, sitting up a little straighter. "Come on, Roy, give me the benefit of those vaunted powers of observation. Notice anything else about Ed lately?"

Roy's eyes narrowed in thought as he stared off into the distance. Maes watched quietly, knowing how the man's mind worked, knowing that Roy was currently picking through his mental filing cabinet, allowing his subconscious to wander idly and gather its own conclusions. Then, "Lost," Roy said finally. "He looks lost. Like he doesn't know where to go from here."

* * *

Left hook. Right vertical punch. A roundhouse kick. Spinning hook kick low, then middle, then high, then again in the other direction.

It was important to be able to execute moves in either direction, to give the opponent no indication of your dominant hand or foot. Ironically, this was proving easier now that he had his memories back, simply because it seemed that Auric had been right-handed whereas Ed had favoured his left hand mostly, at least, until his right arm had been replaced by automail, making it the de facto dominant arm for combat. So he was now ambidextrous in the best sense of the word, and no sense in letting perfectly good skills go to waste; he was pretty sure Teacher Izumi would have agreed with him, given her emphasis on training the body as well as the mind. He'd spent four years as a Gatekeeper, after all; equivalent exchange practically dictated that he derive _some_ benefit from it. He continued to move fluidly through his routine, allowing the rhythmic movement to lull his mind into a blank calm in which he could almost feel the two sets of memories struggling to mesh with each other, to reconcile the quirks of the other. He knew he was getting closer to achieving a full union of sorts, but it was an ongoing struggle, and one that he found hard to articulate to anyone, because they were all just so _happy_ about having him back that he didn't want burden them with the knowledge that just being back wasn't the happy, sunlit scenario they were making it out to be.

Jab. Jab. Cross. Cross. Uppercut. Uppercut. Hook. Hook. Backfist. Backfist. Side kick. Side kick.

Oh, it was wonderful to have Al back. To know that he'd finally kept his promise to get his brother's body back and return him to a normal life. And, he had to admit, he was looking forward to seeing Winry again, and to have Granny Pinako grumble at him, and to see that adorable namesake niece whose face he knew through the photographs Al had shown him and from the memories of Auric's brief encounter. It was good to see and be working with Hawkeye, and Havoc, and Hughes and Armstrong, and all the other familiar faces who, he had only realized afterwards, had come to mean so much to him. The familiar buildings of Central had never looked as grand as when they had finally stepped off the train back from the front and he had been caught up in the giddy melee of a relieved populace. Was he happy to have this life returned to him? Yes. Yes, he was.

The problem was, he'd been happy as a Gatekeeper too. So he hadn't known who he was before, but he had had friends, and a community to belong to, and Al, in a way, and life _had_ been simpler. Be loyal to the Guild. Help the people. Live or die with honour – the Guild wasn't too fussed about which, as long as you did it in a manner that would enhance the Guild's reputation, and he could see the logic in that. All the bargaining power they had for their survival lay in their collective reputations, after all. Stay close to each other, keep others at a distance, because emotional ties are messy things. And never worry about the future, because every Gatekeeper knows how his life will end, anyway. Dying of old age was, generally speaking, a purely theoretical matter for a Gatekeeper. It had been a good life, in many ways. Laughing with Alp on the road to another spy mission, laying down the law to some overbearing district squire who was meddling in another's affairs, loving and leaving some young lass or laddie – again, the Guild was indifferent as to preference, as long as you didn't get emotionally attached – every now and then. Laugh. Fight. Help. Love. Die. Simple. He could see how Auric had come by that detached confidence that seemed to have been his defining characteristic – it came from knowing exactly who you were in this world and what your purpose was. And when Auric had crossed over, that fatalistic state of mind had helped him redefine his purpose. Save Al in this world. Help out in the war. Be kind to all and sundry as long as they didn't try to kill you. Remember to keep a sense of humour along the way, because what was the point of a long life if you were miserable? And if he survived all that, well then he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Back kick. Back kick. A spinning leap. Butterfly kick.

Ed just wished he could adopt that mindset as easily. However, not to flog a dead idiom, but from his point of view, he'd crossed all his bridges and the path beneath his feet had abruptly died away and faded into the underbrush. As it should have. He'd known that bringing Al back would require his life in exchange, and he'd been ready, willing and able. He'd made his peace with his decision. Said his goodbyes. Part of Winry's rant on the phone earlier had been about the letter he had mailed her the day he disappeared, asking her to take care of Al, telling her he was grateful to have had her in his life, and asking her to forgive him for leaving one last time. "You actually expected that letter to be enough?" she had shrieked tearfully. "Did it never occur to you how I'd feel? How Al would feel? For a genius, you're the biggest moron alive, Edward Elric!" It had apparently arrived at the same time as the telegram with the details of his disappearance and request for her presence at Al's bedside, and Winry had had a nervous breakdown on the doorstep. In front of the postman. Which she had never lived down, Risembool being a very small town. Oops. He winced mentally in chagrin – on hindsight and with the benefit of four years of maturity, it did seem a little brusque. But back then he'd been so focused on finishing it, on crossing "Get Al's body back" off his list of things to accomplish, and he had been so certain that it would end with his death, that he hadn't really given too much thought to what would happen afterwards. As the current situation with Mustang demonstrated all too clearly.

Elbow strike. Backfist. Side kick. Roundhouse kick. Spinning hook kick, high.

After the initial euphoria of wrangling his way past the Gate, of seeing Al, of finally giving that creepy Homunculus his comeuppance, it had seemed only natural to ride the wave of daring and adrenaline into Mustang's arms, because he had _missed_ the bastard, missed arguing with him, missed sparring with him, missed the sight and sound and smell and taste and feel of him. He hadn't had time to worry about whether the sentiment was mutual. And there was no denying it…the man could kiss. Ed's knees went wobbly at the memory, which of course insisted on calling up older ones of that one night when he had taken his courage in both hands and decided that if he was going to die, he was going to live first. _Die_ being the operative word here.

Damn it, he hadn't thought he would have to come back and _face_ the man! The sixteen-year-old naïve alchemist in him was _mortified_ and wondering what exactly that bastard thought of him. Sure, he seemed interested, and was being suspiciously kind, but you couldn't trust that manipulative bastard as far as you could throw him. The twenty-year-old veteran Gatekeeper in him was highly amused and quite willing to pick up where the sixteen-year-old had left off, cocksure in his certainty that the General was willing to be engaged. The mind games were all part of the fun, anyway – but there was that matter of honouring his contract, and Guild rules did specifically prohibit getting involved with a client. And the product of the two was developing a migraine trying to figure out how to deal with the dichotomy. At the moment, the best he had come up with was avoidance. Which, judging from Al's increasingly dubious glances, was not going to work much longer. _And_ he'd agreed to swear the idiot in as Fuhrer next week anyway, which would mean having to stand before him and look him in the eye. He scowled accusingly at the punching bag before attacking it in a flurry of blows that somehow ended with a _sai_ quivering in the middle of the bag, which hissed sadly as sand began to dribble out through the rip in its skin, and a couple of broken mirrors.

"Shit. Um. Al, a little help here?" Ed knew he could fix it himself, but didn't trust himself not to destroy a couple more things in his current state of mind.

Al sighed as he gave up on the pretence of working out and put his hands together to fix the mess before Major Hawkeye heard about it.


	24. Caduceus And Crown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

I'll make this quick, but I had to get this off my chest. A couple of people sent me PMs to tell me the last couple of chapters were too slow, too boring, etc. I appreciate the feedback, but come on, you expect death and resurrection every chapter now? I'm sorry, but it just doesn't work that way! I warned you! You could have stopped at Chapter 21! After the battle is over, you always have to pick up the pieces and try to make sense of your old life. Anyway…despite that, we've broken the 100 favourites barrier - _Full Circle_ has made it to 108 people's favourite stories! Thank you so much, that's really great. So Auric and I decided that you guys deserved one more _long_ chapter before I got on the plane to Japan. Although I am a little aggrieved at the state of reviews…the review button is a _good_ thing, people! Enjoy, _review_ (please please please - doomo arigatoo!) and see you when I get back! Much love –NF.

* * *

**_Chapter 24: Caduceus and Crown_**

Roy Mustang fumbled for his keys as he leaned against the door to his rooms, fatigue and not-quite-healed bruised hands making him clumsy. The lighter Auric had given him was a comforting weight in his pocket, given that snapping his fingers was still not an option. After dropping his key ring a couple more times, he finally got the door open and reached for the lamp cord that dangled from the bare bulb in the small entrance hall. The Fuhrer had kept a much more luxurious and extensive suite of rooms at HQ, and it was his for the taking, but Roy preferred the familiarity of his own humble space. Besides, he wasn't Fuhrer _yet_, though the crown was within reach. How odd, to feel such ambivalence about the very thing he had been working to achieve for the better part of his adult life – or not so much ambivalence as a sick sort of anticipation, like the feeling in a diver's stomach as he stands at the edge of the diving board, the deep breath before the plunge. Knowing that this was the culmination of all your efforts, your moment of triumph, and yet sorry because…well…because once you stepped off that ledge, it would all be over, the work of years and years rushing to its fulfilment in an instant. And then the hard work of setting up for the next dive, the next competition, the next chapter would begin. He chuckled wearily to himself as the light flickered on and he stepped into the room, which looked simultaneously the same and yet utterly different after his long absence; everything in its proper place and yet hung about with an air of desolate abandonment.

He hadn't used his quarters at Central since that first night Auric had spent at Central, and the room was still in the state of controlled disarray they had left it in – chalk dust on the floor where they had been working with arrays, a couple of glasses rinsed out and left on the draining board, the half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the rickety side-table. At least the bunk beds were made up; Roy always made his bed right after waking up, the habits of a lifetime spent in the military being hard to shake, and Auric had been a surprisingly neat houseguest. The only real evidence that he had ever been there was a glittering thread of gold on the pillow that Roy took down from the upper bunk, and the borrowed crew-necked shirt that had been folded neatly into thirds lengthwise and hung over the foot rail. He picked up the shirt and walked back to the fireplace, dropping into the chair he had occupied that night as he balled up the garment and tossed it into the chair opposite where Auric had sat all those nights ago and told Roy his fear – that he would disappear, never to be remembered, wiped out of existence by Ed's return. Well, Ed had returned. And Auric…hadn't quite left, Roy rather suspected.

"Talk to him, Roy," Maes had urged. "All this pussy-footing around each other is ridiculous. He's probably just as uncertain as you are about where the two of you stand. And it's got to be hard on him dealing with Auric's memories on top of his own. And while Auric was a remarkably deft hand at dealing with human relationships, Ed always struggled with them, if you recall. And…." Roy had raised an eyebrow at the hesitation in the big man's voice, and Maes had shrugged sheepishly. "And I really don't want anything to mess up the inauguration that I've worked so hard to organize – Ed always had a nasty habit of blowing up buildings when he was upset…."

He'd nodded tiredly, too exhausted to think up any sort of witty comeback. "I know. I will. After. I'm just so busy right now, Maes, and he is too, and…."

Maes had reached over then and shaken him gently by the shoulder insistently to stop his babbling, although he was careful not to jar any of the healing injuries. "Roy. Stop. You need some rest, you're not thinking straight. Because when you love someone – yes, love, don't give me that look – you make the time." He shook his head fondly. "It's a good thing the two of you fell for each other – I don't know who else would put up with you and your grand ambitions without making the mistake of becoming either a sycophant or a harpy. Is there a masculine noun for harpy?"

Roy had snorted into his coffee at the image of a peeved Ed with wings, claws and a forked tail. Now he looked across the yawning gap between the chairs and imagined a pair of half-amused golden eyes laughing mockingly back at him and with him. Making time for him…demanding nothing less from him.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, he'd talk to Ed tomorrow. Right now though, he was going to get some sleep. Standing, he hesitated, then retrieved the shirt from where it lay crumpled on the chair and brought it up to his nose. It still smelled like soap, and coffee, and heated steel, and sunlight. Like Ed. And as he slipped between the sheets and felt sleep reaching out to claim him with eager fingers, he hugged it to his chest and breathed it all in, putting his faith in a promise given on a battlefield not so far away.

Tomorrow.

* * *

Alphonse Elric rolled over, yanking the covers further up as he tried to get comfortable. His legs became entangled with the sheets, and he kicked irritably, then bit back a curse as his foot made painful contact with the bedpost. Damn it. His aborted workout session with his brother at the gym earlier that day seemed to have keyed up his nerves instead of tiring him out, and he debated getting up and reading or finishing up his letter home, but worried about waking Ed. Granted, in their iterant youth, his brother had been one of those people who could sleep through an earthquake, but in the brief time that Al had roomed with Auric, he had noticed that the Gatekeeper was a surprisingly light sleeper, probably a habit developed from necessity, and this new version of Ed appeared to be adopting the practice. So he flopped back onto his back as quietly as possible, staring crossly at the ceiling as he willed his eyes to shut and sleep to come, although he was beginning to realize that even a State Alchemist had no control over Morpheus's realm. The Earth Moving Alchemist rolled over again on the narrow, standard-issue bed until he was facing the twin bed to his own. Unlike himself, his brother appeared to be sleeping soundly, his golden hair spilling loosely across and off the pillow, his face managing to be both calm and guarded in repose. The younger man worried at his lip as he studied the features that were more familiar to him than his own.

"You're staring again, Al," Ed mumbled sleepily without opening his eyes, though a wry smile tugged at his lips. "Having trouble sleeping?"

His younger brother started and shook his head in amusement. "I'm with Hughes. How _do_ you do that?" Maes had been fascinated by Auric's seeming ability to tell what was going on around him even with his eyes shut, probably because that would be an invaluable skill for an Intelligence Officer, and it seemed that Ed hadn't lost his touch.

"We do have senses other than sight, you know. Sound, for instance – it's hard to be sure, but I think you might have been quieter as a suit of armour." Ed shifted, yawning widely, and opened a sleepy but amused eye, the barest slit of gold visible through his lashes. "Besides, some Gatekeeper I'd be if I couldn't tell when someone was watching me. What's bothering you?"

Ed had evidently also retained Auric's mood swings, his brother decided, given that Ed was downright chatty at the moment, in stark contrast to a few hours prior when he had basically stormed into their rooms after their gym session and flung himself down on the bed, refusing to talk. Carefully ignoring the fact that Ed had just referred to himself instinctively as a Gatekeeper despite having only been just recertified and restored, from an official point of view, to the status of State Alchemist, Al took a deep breath. The matching silver pocket watch to his own lay on the nightstand where it had been carelessly tossed, glinting mockingly at the young man. "Truth be told, brother, you are."

Ed's eyebrows shot up in mock outrage as he sat up and scrubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. "Hey, I'm not the one who snores! How does Winry put up with it?" A pillow came flying in his direction, and he ducked, laughing. "Okay, okay, I yield. What am I doing that's bothering you?"

"Well…" Al sat up, hunching over slightly as he hugged his remaining pillow to his chest defensively, a familiar pose that Ed had seen many times whenever his younger brother wanted to broach a delicate subject, but wasn't sure how Ed would take it. It never augured well. For himself, anyway. Al hesitated, then, "I saw the scar on your chest, over your heart. Earlier today, when we were hitting the showers in the gym."

He was pretty sure that that had _not_ been what Al had meant to say, but Ed went with it. "Oh. You know, typical Gate of Truth souvenir. Now we match!" His hand crept to his chest and he rubbed at it through his shirt self-consciously. As a child, he had generally slept bare-chested, but since his return, he'd found sleeping nearly fully clothed to be a habit hard to break, derived as it was from the Gatekeeper instinct for self-preservation and the need to be ready at a moments notice. His _sais_ rested near to hand under his pillow.

"No. No, we don't, brother." Al's grey eyes glinted like starlight in the thin light creeping through the crack under the door to their room. "Yours is different from mine. It's not a wing'd snake on a cross. Do you know what yours is?"

"Ah…Al, you know I always left that sort of detailed research to you," Ed hedged. Al glared at him, and the slighter of the two blondes groaned. "Do we have to do this now? I'm tired, Al. _Some_ of us actually worked out."

"So lie down and listen," replied his brother tartly. "But don't you dare fall asleep, because I'll know, and I'll transmute your pillow into gum, and then you'll _have_ to get a haircut. And you'll never live it down."

Ed twitched. "You're evil, you know that? It must be Winry's influence. I have no idea what I was thinking, asking her to take care of you. Should have stuck Mustang with you…wait, then you'd be a manipulative bastard, that wouldn't work either, not to mention the thought of the two of you married…Hawkeye? Oh, wait, I've got it, Hughes! Gracia would have loved to have had you, and Alicia…."

"Stop trying to change the subject, brother," Al chided. "Don't make me smack you again like I did Auric."

A fond smile touched Ed's lips lightly as he regarded his brother with proud affection. "You really have grown up, Al. You're taking care of me now – it almost feels like I'm superfluous here. You don't really need me anymore."

Al lunged off his bed and onto Ed's as he smacked – or rather, thumped – Ed hard, the bed creaking harshly under the added weight. "I warned you! Does 'crazed homicidal State Alchemist' not ring any bells?" Ed choked as Al wrapped his arms around him and squeezed rather harder than necessary. He could feel his brother trembling under the iron band of muscle, and he reached up as best he could to rub Al's back, feeling the tension slowly ebb as Al began to relax. "I swear, if you pull one of your nobly self-sacrificing stunts again, I'll hunt you down _wherever_ you wind up and _strangle_ you. At least then I'll know where you are at all times!"

Ed shook his head gently, still trapped in Al's shoulder. "You know I'll always find a way back to you, Al. But I am sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

"You should be," snapped his brother, but he finally let go and moved to sit with his back against the wall, long legs stretched out before him half-dangling off the bed. Ed sat cross-legged at right angles to him up by the headboard, and for a few minutes neither said anything. At last Al stirred again. "So. Your scar."

"It's a caduceus and crown," Ed sighed in resignation. He might not be as interested in minutia as his brother – except insofar as they related to his goals - but you couldn't come back from the Gate of Truth three times and not have a fair amount of stuff stuck in your head.

"What do you think it means?" His brother's brow was furrowed in thought.

Ed allowed his head to tip back against the headboard and closed his eyes. "I wasn't kidding when I referred to the scars as souvenirs, Al. The Gate marks everyone who sees it for those who understand to read. Yours tells us that your spirit and soul have undergone a successful fixation to this plane."

"Thanks to you."

Ed shrugged. "Whatever. You would have done the same for me." He opened his eyes, which glowed startlingly bright, like a cat's. "In my case, the caduceus, with its twining twin snakes, represents the union of two manifestations – Auric and Ed – around one soul. The golden ball with wings topping the staff represents the product of their successful union, the Stone, their offspring - me. Or at least, me as I will become…." He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "This isn't easy, Al. You know how weird it is to see the world through two sets of eyes, each viewing the situation through the lenses of their own experience? It's a daily struggle to reconcile the two in my head, and sometimes I feel like it's a losing battle. People keep expecting me to just pick up where I left off. Well, I can't. I'm sorry to dump all this on you, but I'm tired. Tired of keeping up the appearance of normality. Because this isn't a normal situation." His face darkened as he tilted his chin downwards, and Al thought absently that it was rather like having the lights dim on you as Ed's burning gaze fell to the rumpled sheets.

"Then the crown must represent the successful completion of the union?" Al asked tentatively. "But you just said…."

His brother's smile was mirthless. "A little presumptive and premature on the part of the Gate. I knew it was going to try to get back at me for mouthing off." He shifted restlessly. "It's a mockery that I have to see every time I look in the mirror. And it also reminds me…." He trailed off then sighed. "Never mind."

"Brother…" Al urged gently. "We've always shared our troubles, you know that. What is it?"

Ed seemed to be wrestling with himself, his graceful fingers wandering nervously across the sheets, smoothing out the creases as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "Well…much of alchemic research is centred around creating a Stone. Right?" He waited for Al to nod agreement. "Suppose you do succeed in creating a Stone. What do you do with it?"

Al opened his mouth reflexively, then shut it. Was his brother serious? "Um…well, you use it."

"What for?" Ed asked. "And I'm not being facetious."

"Whatever you want!" Al said, puzzled. "Restoring bodies, prolonging life – it's a source of power, that's all."

"And what do you do when you've achieved everything you set out to do, Al?" his brother asked softly, and with that gentle question, the puzzle pieces fell into place. Ed's eyes were hollow as he sat up a little straighter and folded his hands neatly in his lap.

"A Stone's useless without a purpose."

* * *

It was sad, really, that Mustang had to be disposed of. He might be an arrogant, patronizing, manipulative S.O.B., but the man had guts, and had admittedly been instrumental in turning the tide of the Drachman war. And the people did love him; he fit the profile of the brilliant, dashing war hero to a T, and the man had charisma coming out his ears. Not to mention all that fancy Alchemy that Fuhrer Bradley had paid far too much attention to, to the man's eventual detriment. So the Flame Alchemist was a human firework, big deal. All flash and no substance. Still, he did put on a good show, and that was the problem…the man had become too big for his britches thanks to the general adulation that greeted him wherever he went. Too…_popular_. And that was always dangerous.

People, thought Major-General Hakuro, were like sheep. There to be led. There to be used. And who cared what sheep thought? They didn't understand that what they needed was a shepherd with a firm hand to guide them and chivvy them along in the right direction, and that that flighty, womanizing playboy was certainly _not_ what Amestris needed right now. The country had almost been destroyed, for crying out loud, it needed to be unified and rebuilt, and Mustang was not the man for the job. No sir, what they needed was an experienced leader, a strong ruler, a decisive despot. Himself, in other words. He'd earned his rank, unlike Mustang, who had leapfrogged his way to the top…probably kissed more than just asses to further his ambitions, too. How else to explain the peculiar loyalty of the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother? And the rest of his irritatingly tight-knit staff…he'd tried to get his spies to ingratiate themselves into Mustang's inner circle even before the Drachman war had begun, but strange things seemed to happen to people who got too close. One of his best spies had woken up naked in the middle of HQ after a drinking session with Havoc, a bulls-eye tattooed neatly onto his left buttocks cheek. Another one had attempted to woo Mustang's aide-de-camp – what was her name? Liza, Rosa, something like that – and had come back with his right arm in a sling. The woman had apparently put two bullets into his upper arm after he had tried to slip his arm around her, shattering his humerus. Even that quiet little specialist, the one with the glasses, had somehow given them the slip the one time they had tried to corner him and pry information about Mustang's doings out of him, and their phones hadn't worked right for _weeks_ afterwards.

Hakuro growled. Of course, the man's popularity meant an obvious strike against him was useless. Even if the attempt was successful, he didn't need Mustang turned into a martyr, or for the populace to become more agitated about the state of government than they already were. The popular groundswell of support would most certainly mean that those responsible would be lynched, and while he was quite certain that he had men and guns enough to defend himself, well…you couldn't kill all the sheep, what would you live off then? That left three options. Discrediting Mustang at this stage would be difficult, especially with that spin-machine Maes Hughes firmly by his side manipulating propaganda. He made Hakuro's own intelligence officers look like the bungling goons they often were. Then there was trying to persuade the one man more popular than Mustang transfer his loyalties to Hakuro. Given his past experience with the Fullmetal Alchemist though, Hakuro was quite certain that really wasn't even on the table, which was a pity, because the boy had certainly grown up to be _stunning_. Those eyes…those almost too-red lips…he shifted uncomfortably as he felt his face flushing hot.

Oh. Might _that_ be how Mustang was keeping Fullmetal by his side? Why, that cunning, perverted bastard, thought Hakuro self-righteously, that's just sick. Poor moral character, there you go, we can't have that in our Fuhrer, can we? So it would have to be the third option then. Good thing he still had men stationed in HQ from the days when they had served as the Fuhrer's security detail, although he was certain Mustang would move swiftly to have them removed and replaced by his own men, so they'd have to move quickly. The sudden peaceful passing of the illustrious Flame Alchemist, hero of the Ishbal and Drachma wars by assassination – yes, without that last bit, it would read very well in the papers indeed.

He looked out the window. A heavy, dark, silent night. A good night for plots and schemes. He should turn in early though, he'd need to be fresh and alert and ready to express his sorrow in the morning when they came to give him the tragic news that the injuries the Fuhrer-elect had sustained in the war had proven too much for even his noble body to bear. And he would of course volunteer to lead the nation through this time of grief and crisis. Perhaps he might even have to console the Fullmetal Alchemist. A heavy cross to bear, but Major General Hakuro would, of course, be more than up to the job.

* * *

They had been sitting silently in the dark for a while, Al because he didn't know what to say, and Ed because he had said all he had to say. The BOQ was eerily quiet – normally there would have been people chatting in the corridors, murmuring quiet good nights and see you in the mornings, but for some reason nothing was stirring. Even the breeze that had been blowing in through the open window earlier had died down. Ed finally broke the silence.

"Go to bed, Al, it's late, and we'll have a full day working with Armstrong on those rebuilding plans tomorrow. I think we're going to have to send Winters and Klimt up north to help out, what do you think?"

Al recognized his brother's valiant attempt to bring the conversation back to the everyday. "Um. Yeah. Sure, that would work, Winters is a pretty good civil alchemist, and the North City did take the most damage." He forced a note of jollity into his voice. "Hey, maybe we could volunteer to go to East City, that way we could stop by Risembool and you could see everyone."

He felt, rather than saw Ed smile slightly. "Sure, Al. Whatever you want. We'll do it after the inauguration, all right?"

"Yeah. We should stick around for that, and Winry said she'd like to come up for it too. Not every day you get front-row seats to watch a new Fuhrer take office, and you'll be front and centre with him! We can go back to Risembool together afterwards - you'll feel better in the countryside," Al added hopefully. "It's peaceful there. And you can see the stars at night, not like here. And hear the crickets chirping…hey, listen, you can hear one now! I guess because it's so quiet tonight. It's a sign we're supposed to go home."

Ed hooted in brotherly derision. "Branching out into divination now? A 'sign' indeed. Maybe you should also look into…" and then he stiffened and stopped abruptly. His mask of mild amusement was wiped off and replaced by a look of ferocious intensity. With one bound he was off the bed, buttoning up his pants and sliding neatly into his boots as he reached for the daggers stashed under his pillow. "Al. Hurry, get dressed, we have to go."

"Now? But the trains don't run until morning!" protested Al in shock, even as he slid off the bed with a thump and began pulling his shirt over his head, automatically obedient to his brother's orders.

Ed was already rummaging in a drawer for a bit of ribbon as he pulled his hair back into a low, loose ponytail. "Central doesn't _have_ crickets, Al, it's too built up and the weather doesn't suit them as well. Unless I'm mistaken, that's a sign all right, but not for us." He reached for the pair of gauntlets on the nightstand and slipped them on, fastening them snugly around his forearms with practiced ease, then hesitated a moment, looking at the silver watch that had lain next to them, before picking it up and swiftly stuffing it into his pocket. His old watch had been lost four years ago, which wasn't entirely a bad thing, he thought philosophically as he clipped the chain of his new one to his belt. The date scratched within its case would never be forgotten, but its significance was, in many ways, a thing of his past, belonging to a chapter of his life that was now closed behind him. It was time to move on from both his pasts. Something had changed inside him in the last few minutes, had shaken off the dark bonds of depression and started to take an incisive interest in the future again, and he wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps he'd just needed to share his worries with Al? He filed the thought away for consideration at some later time; there were other things demanding his attention at the moment.

"You think it's a signal of some kind?" Al asked as he yanked frantically on his bootlaces. Ed snatched up his cloak and twirled it lightly about himself, patted himself down swiftly in a final check, then nodded, satisfied. He moved quietly towards the door, his booted feet making barely any sound, Al noticed suddenly.

"Yes. And if people are sneaking around HQ with covert signals, that can't be a good thing. My guess is that we've got company coming – and I know who I'd be targeting if I were an assassin. Come on, time to go save that bastard's ass again." And he was gone, slipping out the door like a shadow, and Al followed, frowning, because the look on his brother's face had been one of worry, keen focus – and a fierce secret joy.


	25. Half Past Midnight

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

* * *

**_Chapter 25: Half Past Midnight_**

The soldiers on guard duty at HQ normally spent it in shifts of two hours each, making circuits that crossed another's path every forty minutes, each encounter with a different guard, each guard acknowledging the other with a sign and countersign, before the original pair met again at the change of shifts. However, when the Fuhrer was in residence, or failing that, the Fuhrer-elect, the number of guards was increased to enable shifts to be changed every hour, on the hour, with the circuits taken being tightened up to allow the guards to cross paths every half-hour instead. On the one hand, it helped to increase security, since in theory, intruders had a few minutes less to go about their merry way. On the other hand, more people moving around meant more moving parts, more likely near crossings in corridors – and more opportunities for a guard to slip away unseen. A certain anonymity in numbers, and who could tell identity from a grey uniformed shoulder or back disappearing round a corner or down a hallway?

A cricket chirped again, once, twice, loud in the heavy stillness that seemed to have fallen over Central. The warrant officer with the colourless eyes pursed his lips and mimicked the cry back to listening ears, although the muffled sounds of his boots thumping down the carpeted corridor betrayed no change in his by-the-book marching gait. He rounded a corner and acknowledged the guardsman who crossed the hall towards him. Sign and countersign were exchanged, a friendly brisk nod to the fresh-faced young corporal, and the lanky warrant officer moved on. His back remained straight and his posture impeccable until he rounded the next corner and nodded once to the soldier who emerged from the shadows. Again, a sign and countersign were flashed, but this time something slipped between palms, and then the other slipped silently back into the shadows as the warrant officer turned down a corridor leading away from his circuit and towards his target. Although his pale face and hooded eyes betrayed no outward signs of emotion, inside he was wriggling with sick fear and an odd anticipation which quickened his steps.

He checked his pocket-watch, more from jitters than an actual need to know the time, because it was seared into his mind. Half-past midnight. The corporal wouldn't expect to see him again until one o'clock, by which time the deed would be done. From his current position, it would take him ten minutes to slip past the guards standing in between him and his objective, owing to the circuitous route he would take to evade the many men patrolling the building tonight. Then ten minutes to do the deed, allowing for any difficulties with access to the target, and another ten to slip back to his post for the change of shifts. He was confident that he would succeed in his assignment - General Hakuro himself had impressed upon him the importance of his actions tonight, and his heart swelled at the confidence the General had placed in his abilities. Still, he found himself glancing at his watch again, squeezing it tighter than he had to, until he could feel the metal etching on the watch-case cut into his hand. Just breathe, he told himself firmly and with a touch of impatience, it's like any other assignment. However, he realized to his annoyance that his palms were sweaty, and as he wiped them impatiently on his pant legs in a complete breach of uniform regulations, he decided that, in this case, some degree of nervousness was excusable as long as it did not imperil the mission.

It wasn't everyday that a mere warrant officer was entrusted with the necessary assassination of a State Alchemist, decorated war hero and Fuhrer-to-be after all.

* * *

A pair of shadows stole down the darkened hallway, carefully avoiding the guard marching stiffly down the centre of the corridor. Eyes staring firmly forward under the visor of his cap, the earnest looking corporal failed to notice the cloaked figure hiding in the shadow of a doorway or the larger figure concealing himself behind a towering suit of armour, and the two heaved silent sighs of relief as his footsteps died away. "When this is all over, remind me to rewrite the policies and procedures for guard duty," muttered the shorter of the duo, pushing back his hood as he peered out of the doorway. "Some job he's doing. A herd of cattle could come through here and he wouldn't notice." 

"If he were doing a good job, we would have been discovered," pointed out the other in hushed tones as he stepped out gingerly from behind the armour display. "Although…why exactly are we sneaking around? We're officers, we have a right to be walking about even after lights-out. Shouldn't we be alerting the guards and getting to the General as quickly as possible?"

Edward Elric shrugged. "Because I don't know that my suspicions are wholly founded as yet, Al. Wouldn't want to cause unnecessary panic now, would we?" His eyes glinted in the faint light from a skylight above, faintly amused. "Maybe one of the men has a pet cricket from home. Not sure why you'd keep an insect as a pet though."

Alphonse Elric rolled his eyes, his lips quirking momentarily despite the seriousness of the situation. He suspected that Ed was enjoying this cloak-and-dagger stuff rather more than he was willing to admit. "Please brother, spare me the humility. You've never been anything less than certain about your instincts."

"Cynic," Ed replied amiably. "Fine, then because if I'm right, there's a very strong likelihood that at least some of the guards are in on the plot, and we wouldn't want to alert them prematurely. Whose unit traditionally provides the security detail anyway?"

"That would be…let me think…General Hakuro," Al frowned. "And he would have much to gain from removing General Mustang."

The tight smile he got in reply was feral. "Ah, that siren song – pride, power and glory. I haven't seen Hakuro since…well, since my exams, I think. Or maybe Lior. Wasn't he already a Major General then?" Al nodded soberly. "Must stick in the old man's craw then, having to watch Mustang rise so rapidly through the ranks to become his equal – and now to have him elevated to Fuhrer…he's got to know his days are numbered; he was too close to Bradley and Mustang's not stupid. Oh hang on, the idiot was careless enough to put himself in a vulnerable position like this. Lazy bastard."

"He's been very busy, brother," Al demurred meekly, but with a distinct note of accusation in his voice. "And he's been a little distracted of late. He worries about his people, you know – _some_ more than others." Ed glanced away guiltily, and Al decided that his arrow had found its desired target. "Come on, we should hurry, his rooms are this way, aren't they? Hey - can you teleport us there?"

"I could," Ed admitted. "But I don't think…oh, crap," and he yanked Al back into the darkness of the doorway as footsteps were heard in the distance. They paused, and then moved on again, their stride determined and purposeful. Before the brothers could unfreeze from their cover however, a stealthy figure padded past them. Al could feel his brother's arm trembling as he pressed the younger man back against the hard wooden door. They waited, barely breathing, until the quiet footpads had died away.

Ed stepped out into the hallway, face grim. "That was probably one of them passing along the weapon to be used – that was not a scheduled hand-off." His teasing mood seemed to have evaporated in an instant. "It'll take the other one about ten minutes to get to Roy's rooms, assuming he tries to avoid crossing any of the other guards' paths. You're right, we need to move quickly."

"Why didn't you take them out then?" asked Al worriedly, though a small part of his mind noted with satisfaction the general's sudden change of status from "idiot" to "Roy". His brother grimaced.

"I'd like nothing better, but I don't know if they have any other rendezvous planned – don't want to tip our hand too early. We should split up." Al could feel his brother's breath tickle his ear. "I'll go after Mustang, get him someplace safe, probably Hughes's until we can check out Mustang's own house and make sure there aren't any unpleasant surprises waiting there. You need to find Major Hawkeye or Colonel Armstrong and some backup – we need to take all the guards into custody ASAP because there have to be at least a couple of them in on it, and we don't want to give them sufficient warning to flee – or to warn Hakuro, for that matter. And send a trusted detail over to Hughes's to watch the place so I can leave – I want to be here for the interrogations."

"I am _not_ letting you do this on your own!" hissed Al as quietly as possible as he hunched over to hear his brother better. "Someone has to keep an eye on you. What if there are more than just a couple of them? What if something happens to you before you reach the General? What would I tell Winry then?"

Both brothers winced simultaneously at the thought of what Winry Rockbell Elric would do to them if either one got hurt. Then Ed rolled his eyes huffily. "I'm not going to _fight_ them, Al, just get Mustang away from here. You're wasting time!" He could sense his brother taking a breath to continue arguing, and clapped a hand firmly over Al's mouth before any sound could be made. "Look, if it's an assassination, I doubt it's going to be done by committee. One, at most two men. Okay? Trust me, I've dealt with this sort of thing before. Anyway, I'll just teleport us out of harm's way, no big deal. Or I'll transmute the first couple into armchairs and bar the doors…kidding!" he added lamely at his brother's look of horror. "Just trying to lighten up the situation."

Al moaned softly as he rubbed at his forehead. "It's too late in the night for bad jokes, brother. And you're better at them when you're not trying so hard."

"Never too early in the morning though," Ed offered, "after all, it's half-past midnight now." His smile was glittering and his eyes hard, and Al suddenly remembered wondering what sort of life gave you eyes like those, and realized his subconscious had come up with an answer. Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric was starting to bear a startling resemblance to another young Lieutenant Colonel with dark hair who had visited the sleepy town of Risembool on a stormy night eight years ago. Apart from not being a smirking show-off and superior know-it-all of course, he instinctively added with a brother's defensiveness; the General was particularly talented in that regard.

And then Ed…smirked.

"Go on, _Major_ Elric. I'd start by calling the Green Lion restaurant; I think Havoc was taking Hawkeye there for dinner tonight. He can be so predictable." And with that, he stepped backwards, touched two fingers to his brow in a mock salute and disappeared, with only the faintest rush of air on Al's cheeks as molecules rushed forward to fill the vacuum left by his passing.

Yep. Definite resemblance there. Al sighed as he headed in the direction of their offices to use the phones. He'd call the Green Lion first, and then Armstrong's house. Oh well - at least he didn't have to worry about Ed becoming a notorious womanizer - with his looks, that could have devastating repercussions. Although he had no idea how he was going to explain the reason for that to Winry.

* * *

"Half-past midnight," said Riza Hawkeye lightly to her date. "Shouldn't we have turned into pumpkins by now?" They were the last couple left in the restaurant, having lingered over their after-dinner coffees as they chatted of sailing ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, as the poem would have it. Most of the other tables had been cleared, and a bent old janitor shuffled around the room upending the chairs onto the tables. Their waiter blinked sleepily from the corner of the bar, too polite to shoo them out. They were an attractive couple, after all, the determined looking blonde woman and her lanky escort; by their bearing, definitely military, and given that they'd just won a war, he thought they deserved a little consideration. Plus they had tipped him very well when he had brought the cheque over earlier. 

Jean Havoc smiled lazily as he leaned back in his chair, dirty blonde fringe falling into his eyes. "That only happens if the princess isn't supposed to be at the ball."

"So I'm not a princess?" Riza asked with mock asperity. "In case you hadn't noticed, Captain, I still outrank you, so I'd watch what I was saying if I were you."

"And we're out of uniform, so that doesn't count," was the mild rejoinder. "You're definitely a princess though. A queen, in my eyes. But you're supposed to be right here with me, and I'm not letting you go, Cinderella," laughed Jean. "Took me long enough to find you, after all." He watched admiringly as a faint flush stained her cheeks. Her hair tumbled loose about her shoulders, and he thought he'd never seen a prettier sight. "Our ball is going to last forever."

Riza shook her head affectionately even as the pragmatic side of her asserted itself. "Nothing in life lasts forever, Jean. We're soldiers, we should know that."

"Oh Riza…for one moment, forget the military," sighed the man as he reached across the table and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. "I know, I know, it's a part of who you are, and I love you for it. But just for a little while, let's pretend there isn't anyone else that matters but us. Okay?"

She hesitated, uncertain if she could make such a leap. Her sense of self clung protectively to the hard-won military exterior that had defined her for so long, had provided protection, and strength, and a purpose. And then she met his eyes, kind and gentle and hopeful and reassuring, offering warmth and love and acceptance, and she did what any soldier worth her salt would do. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, tossed her hair back, leaned forward, and kissed him chastely. Her eyes were bright as she pulled away, as were his as he stood and moved to pull her chair out for her to rise. He offered her his arm, and she took it, and as one they turned towards the door, the knowing smile of their waiter following them as he leaned over the counter to answer the phone ringing behind the bar.

"Wait, who is this? What was the name again…_State Alchemist_? Oh! Excuse me, sir? Ma'am?" The couple turned in surprise. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but is one of you Major Hawkeye?" The woman stepped forward, the soft animation that had lit her face but seconds ago fading abruptly as her unusual reddish-brown eyes sharpened in keen attention, and the waiter found himself feeling sorry for the man who watched her go with an expression of wry affection in which resignation and resentment were mingled.

"I am. What is it?"

"I beg your pardon, Major, but I have a State Alchemist, a Major Elric on the phone for you, ma'am. He says it's very urgent." Riza's brows arched in surprise as she reached for the receiver, frowning. The waiter stepped away discreetly to give her some privacy, sidling over to the man waiting patiently by the door. "Sir? Are you in the military too?"

Havoc looked down at the shorter man in surprise. "Yes. Why?"

"I was just wondering…" hedged the waiter nervously. "Major Elric – is that the famous Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"No, but close. His brother, the Earth Moving Alchemist."

"Oh." Havoc could see that the waiter desperately wanted to say something else, so he waited. "Do you know the Fullmetal Alchemist then?"

"Sure, he's sorta like my boss, why?" Havoc watched in amusement as the man knotted his fingers together nervously, a dawning hope in his eyes.

"Might I ask you for a favour? Would it be possible…do you think I could have his autograph?" The man shifted nervously from foot to foot. "I'm…my whole family…we're great admirers of him, you see."

Oh, the boss would get a kick out of this one. If he didn't blow up the restaurant first. And then all such thoughts were driven from his mind as Riza slammed the phone down and pivoted sharply on her heel. "Captain Havoc. We've got to go. _Now_."

* * *

A convulsive shiver and Roy Mustang was suddenly awake, his consciousness rousing itself from a restless sleep, although he couldn't have explained why if he tried. Old habits of a life spent _en garde_, he supposed, of a life spent navigating serpentine labyrinths of deceit and treachery and the attendant need to watch his back and those of the men – and women – who followed him. The small clock on the mantelpiece chimed the half hour softly as he lay there unmoving, nerves quivering and alert as his senses reached out into the darkness beyond his eyelids trying to figure out why his instincts were jarringly on edge. And then he heard it again. The barest rustle of cloth, so soft that it might have been mistaken for one of the normal small sounds of the night, except that he knew with a certainty that it was not. Someone else was in his room, and given that there had been no announcement of the person's presence, he thought he was quite justified in assuming the worst. People generally didn't creep into his rooms at half-past midnight with benevolent intentions, and no, that love struck girl who had crept into his bunk when he was a wet-behind-the-ears newly minted Major didn't count, because as pretty as she had been, jumping his bones could hardly have been construed as a benign act. Or a sane one, for that matter. Although it had done wonders to cement his fast-growing reputation. 

He had fallen asleep curled up on his side; still feigning sleep, he rolled over onto his back, allowing his breath to deepen and relax as he settled into his new position, which had the advantage of leaving both his arms free. The hardened soldier in him cursed himself mentally for not having lighter or gloves immediately to hand; he would have to do this the old-fashioned way then, and he had to be getting old, because he could swear that his hands were already aching in anticipation of the blows they would have to strike, quick, hard, designed to instantly incapacitate or at the very least, disarm. Mental note to self, he thought ruefully, remind Hawkeye to make time in his diary regularly for physical rehabilitation and training if she hadn't already. Nearly silent footsteps neared his bed, and he tensed ever so slightly, suppressing the urge to leap up and confront the intruder, the lighter he had carelessly left in his pocket pressing painfully against his thigh as he willed his body to an alert stillness. The footsteps stopped. And then a wryly amused whisper came floating through the darkness.

"You know, while it is of _immense_ gratification that you're finally starting to get it through your thick skull that you need to be careful whenever I'm not around to save your sorry ass…that really doesn't apply in this situation given that I'm _standing right here_."


	26. Changes

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

* * *

**_Chapter 26: Changes_**

Roy sat up so suddenly that he narrowly missed cracking his head on the upper bunk and his healing ribs creaked in protest. His hair fell messily into his eyes and he ran his fingers back through it impatiently, leaving it tousled still as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking to try and clear his vision as his eyes adjusted to the shadowy dimness of the room, lit only by the ambient light seeping in from the city outside. He must have forgotten to close the blinds before crashing in exhaustion. "What the hell are you doing sneaking around my rooms at this time of the night, Fullmetal?" Fuelled by a lack of sleep and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, his voice was rough, lacking its usual velvet timbre, its nap ruffled up the wrong way, and yet somehow incredibly sexy for all that, and the fleeting thought crossed Ed's mind that in some ways he actually preferred seeing the man this way, caught off-guard and unmasked and _human_, and a sudden desire to just wrap his arms around the man and curl up against his warmth made itself known before the cooler half of his personality grabbed and quashed it with ruthless efficiency. Time for that later.

"Keep your voice down, won't you?" the blonde alchemist muttered as he moved swiftly to the man's bedside. He slipped a hand under Roy's arm, urging the man to rise. "Hurry up, we don't have much time. And don't think I'm not keeping track. This makes _four_ you owe me – I'm going to have to start collecting soon at this rate."

"What are you talking about, and why…." The Fuhrer-elect found himself being yanked swiftly to his feet, and he resisted irritably, swaying with fatigue as he tried to wrest possession of his arm back. "Fullmetal, I _demand_…" he trailed off, realizing that his subordinate was in a _mood_, as Havoc was wont to say, and that there was only one way to get his attention. Fortunately, it was a method Roy Mustang had had much practice – and success with.

"_Edward_…if all you wanted was my…_attentions_…you could simply have asked. I haven't meant to _overlook_ your needs, but getting…_involved_…with my work has always been one of my _shortcomings_." It wasn't so much what was said as _how_, and Roy put all his years of experience into the effort, drawing out the syllables of the younger man's name, savouring them on his tongue, utilizing the husky qualities of a sleep-roughed voice to purr over the words, carefully inserting pregnant pauses for effect and applying the very lightest of stresses on the sibilant that transformed the indication of notice from singular to plural, from matter-of-fact to something far more…suggestive. The younger man froze, and Roy smirked inwardly, counting down mentally in his head. So. Not one of his wittier efforts, but not bad given the ungodly hour. Three…two…one….

"Who the hell are you calling so short that he'd have to jump up to poke an ant in the eye to get its attention?" Ed went purple in the face from embarrassment, annoyance and the need to suppress the volume of his tirade, so that his voice came out in a cross between a guttural croak and a strangled hiss. The widening smirk that crept across Roy's face wasn't helping either. "Bastard. I swear, if I weren't bound by this damned contract, I'd…" he swallowed hard and turned away.

"You'd…?" Roy raised a mocking brow, tilting his head to one side as he stifled a yawn behind his hand, making it look as though he were momentarily caught in contemplative thought, and Ed bit his lip as he wondered irritably how the man could look so portrait-ready despite having been hauled out of bed unceremoniously but seconds ago. He glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece and frowned. He'd already wasted five minutes arguing with Al and now with the person he was supposed to be rescuing – he had to be losing his touch.

"Never you mind. Now get up, bastard, I'm not kidding. I've got to get you away from here _now_." Roy blinked, puzzled at the tension in Ed's voice. He trusted the younger man implicitly, but it could be incredibly frustrating dealing with a mind that was racing on without leaving directions while expecting you to follow, and he ignored the voice in his head that pointed out that Ed had probably learnt _that_ annoying trait from him. The younger man's eyes flickered over the rumpled uniform shirt and pants that Roy was still wearing, but there was nothing indecorous about the look, only an impersonal calculation. "And strip while you're at it; if he sees your uniform lying about, he'll assume you just left your room to use the john, which will give us a few more minutes since he'll probably lie in wait here for you to return. Oh for crying out loud, you can keep your undershirt and boxers on!" he snapped at the look of disbelief on Roy's face. "Don't flatter yourself, I'm not going to jump you."

"You did once," Roy pointed out, carefully keeping his tone light as he moved to obey, though he couldn't keep his lips from twitching. "And who, exactly, is he?"

Ed shrugged, apparently having decided that the dignified thing to do would be to overlook Roy's last statement, although the hard glare he shot his way warned Roy not to push it – at least, not yet. "Don't know yet since I don't know the roster. Some lackey of Hakuro's with a background in covert ops, or he wouldn't be entrusted with the task."

"Of what, exactly?" The adrenaline in his system was starting to dissipate, and Roy could feel the beginnings of a tension headache throbbing behind his eyes as he threw on the spare set of civvies he kept on base. Emergency or not, he was _not_ appearing in public in his underwear – the Fuhrer-elect had to have _some_ shred of dignity. "Outraging my modesty?" He knew his sluggish, half-asleep mind was not making some easy, obvious connection, and it infuriated him no end. Hakuro…covert ops…oh. _Oh._ He knew he'd overlooked something last night, what with having to put up with Maes well-intended intervention and Ed's odd behaviour.

The blonde alchemist let out a quiet snort of amusement. "Please, given your reputation with the ladies, I doubt you have any modesty left to outrage. You really are terrible without coffee – I hope Hughes has some. Assassinating you, of course. Now come on," and before Roy could protest, could say that he was certainly not going to run, he was the _Flame Alchemist_, damn it – he stepped forward, took the taller man by the shoulders and _reached_.

When the door finally opened silently, the barest of slits, to reveal a pale-eyed warrant officer, the room was quite empty, a carelessly discarded uniform strewn on the floor as if the wearer had stripped it off and tossed it aside on the way to bed, its buttons and medals winking as they caught the faint light that fanned in through the crack.

* * *

Havoc drove like a madman through the largely deserted streets and did his best to keep his mind off the backseat where Hawkeye was wriggling into her uniform. They had made a hasty stop at her apartment, with the Major refusing to even take the time to change, instead snatching at neatly hanging items in her closet and racing back out to the car, boots in the other hand. Havoc had taken the opportunity while waiting for her to strip out of his own civvies and change into the spare uniform he kept in the small boot of his car – you didn't work for Mustang without being prepared to move on a moment's notice.

"Make a left up ahead, we've got to pick up Colonel Armstrong," Hawkeye mumbled around a mouthful of hairpins, her fingers flying over her hair as she twisted it up into its usual sleek lines, an operation which Havoc watched with some regret as he glanced up at the rear-view mirror. Her eyes met his briefly, but there was no hint of embarrassment for her dishevelled state in them as she swiped at her face with a handful of tissues, taking off most of her makeup, only a grim look of concern. Modesty was among the first things to go when you were a woman fighting for your place in a man's world, and Riza Hawkeye was an exceptional soldier by any standards. Only someone who knew her well could have seen the tension in her face, the strain reflected in the lines of her throat as she berated herself for leaving her CO in danger.

"It's not your fault, Riza." Her head jerked up from its bowed position over her lap where she had been furiously loading their sidearms, anger and fear making her clumsy. Jean's eyes were serious in the mirror. "It's never going to be any different. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and Roy chose this path for himself. The boss will get to him in time – he'd die before he let anything happen to the General, you know that." He fought down the acrid lick of jealousy that rose up in his throat like bile as he watched the woman he loved fret over another man. It was only the worry of a good subordinate for her CO's safety, a CO that he followed and respected as well. He was being silly…right?

"So would I," she finally choked out. "How could I have been so careless? To overlook the fact that Hakuro controls the guards at Central…my god, if Al hadn't been unable to sleep – if Ed hadn't realized what was happening…." Not for the first time, she admitted to herself that much as the past four years had hurt everyone who cared about the older Elric brother, the skills he had returned with had proven invaluable. She didn't think they would be inaugurating the new Fuhrer next week if not for Auric turning up when he had, and she was glad that the Gatekeeper's personality was still present in the restored Fullmetal Alchemist.

"I'm as much to blame," her companion said tersely as he ignored a stop sign and took a corner at high speed, tires squealing. He could see the Armstrong manse up ahead and a hulking figure waiting for them at the gate. So Alphonse had managed to get the Colonel, that was good. The younger Elric demonstrated a real flair for logistics, remaining cool under pressure. At this moment, he was supposed to be rousing units loyal to Mustang, including Havoc's own company, and the Captain had no doubt that Al would have all the pieces in place to move immediately once they arrived. "I'm in charge of security, remember?"

"We were all careless," she sighed bitterly. "So happy to be back from the front, to be so close to our goal, to have Edward back…stupid, stupid, stupid, that's how wars are lost." Her hand grabbed a handful of rough blue wool uniform, knuckles whitening. "If anything happens to the General, I'll never forgive myself, Jean. And I swear I'll kill Hakuro."

Jean slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt before Colonel Armstrong and leaning over to open the door for the large man who wedged himself swiftly into the tiny passenger seat with surprising grace. Instead of pulling away immediately however, Jean twisted himself around to regard the slight woman in the back seat. "With all due respect, _Major_," and he noted with satisfaction the stiffening effect this appeared to have on Hawkeye's spine, "this war ain't over until it's _over_. So we haven't lost _anything_ yet. You've got to have more faith in the Flame and the Fullmetal. When you pick a good horse, you ride it to the end. And I'll bet a whole year's pay that we see the inauguration of Fuhrer Mustang next week." And with that, he threw the car into gear and floored the gas, eyes firmly forward.

Armstrong looked from one set face to the other. His moustache quivered. And Riza knew what was about to happen. Pink sparkles seemed to light the interior of Havoc's small car as she opened her mouth to protest faintly, "No, really, Colonel, it's…."

"Ah, Captain Havoc, what a stirring speech! I never thought you such the poet! While colloquial, it was worthy of the Armstrongs on the eve of battle – indeed, an Armstrong at the Battle of Homsberg in 1812…."

"Captain," the Major ground out underneath the Colonel's hearty reminiscences, "drive _faster_." The brown eyes that flicked up to meet hers in the rear-view mirror held and mirrored the hint of laughter in her eyes. And she could see them widen momentarily as they read the thanks in her eyes – and saw the affection that lurked beneath.

"…perhaps General Mustang might even permit me to compose a poem to commemorate his inauguration. After all, the Armstrongs have traditionally played a prominent role at such events…."

* * *

The lights were already on in the Hughes household when the Fuhrer-elect and the Fullmetal Alchemist simply appeared in the middle of the living room, Ed noted approvingly. Al must have had the foresight to call Maes and brief him on the situation. Just as Alp would have.

"Roy! You all right?" Maes sprung up from the writing table he had been seated at.

"Just dandy," his friend drawled sarcastically. "If you don't count being worked to the bone, missing dinner and then being woken up in the middle of the night by an irascible blonde. And oh, did I mention another assassination attempt?" Roy knew he sounded peevish, but this was Maes and it was all true and what was the point of almost being Fuhrer if he couldn't indulge in a temper tantrum every once in a while? And where the hell was the coffee in this place?

Maes coughed discreetly, lips twitching despite the circumstances. "The first two sound terrible, I agree…but shouldn't you be used to the third given your, uh, proclivities?" A dark look was shot his way and he shrugged. "What, you've always preferred blondes."

"This is _way_ too much information," interjected said irascible blonde irascibly. "Could we please get off the subject of Roy's – I mean, the bastard General's bed partners and back on the topic of assassination attempts and what to do about them?"

"Jealous, Fullmetal?" was the snide comment from said bastard General as he seated himself gracefully on the nearest armchair. "Given your lack of experience, I mean."

"You wish, old man," Ed shot back. For some reason, the banter was starting to make him feel better, the awkwardness he had been feeling around Roy slowly dissipating and the hard knot in his stomach unravelling ever so slowly. The familiarity of it all, he supposed. "Just bored with all this talk of blondes – I prefer redheads myself, they're _fiery_." Actually, dark-haired, dark-eyed and smirking was closer to the truth, but he savoured the moment as Roy's eyes narrowed and bored into his. He'd always found Roy's eyes fascinating, such a dark shade of blue that they looked black most of the time, except if you looked really, really closely in the right light. Then they were a deep blue, like the ocean at night, with sparks of gleaming phosphorescence when the man got really riled up. Like right about now.

Roy opened his mouth to say something truly awful, but caught himself in time as Gracia Hughes made a smiling, gracious entrance, as unruffled as if they had been attending a dinner party over which she was presiding, instead of fleeing assassins. "Roy, so good to see you again, even if it isn't under the best of circumstances."

"Gracia. You're looking lovely, as always." All of Roy's ingrained chivalry automatically came to his rescue and kicked him into rising. "Forgive the intrusion at this ungodly hour, but Fullmetal thought this was the most secure place on short notice." Gracia turned, her eyes filling with tears as Ed stood up a little straighter, smiling uncomfortably. For a moment, no one said anything, then Gracia suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around Ed.

"Oh…Edward…how you've grown!" Ed hesitated a moment, then wrapped his arms around her motherly figure. She felt comforting, and he let his head drop a little, relaxing in her embrace and breathing in her warm, flowery scent that had always reminded him of his own mother. "When we thought you were dead…Alicia was inconsolable…she'll be so happy to see you!"

He nodded into her shoulder. "I can't wait to see her _in person_ either," and he glared over Gracia's shoulder at Maes as he stressed the words. The big man looked worried as he whipped the photo album back behind his back, perhaps remembering the Gatekeeper's facility with knives, specifically the throwing of them. "But right now we kind of have…things…to discuss."

As befitting a long-time military wife, Gracia seemed to understand almost instinctively. She let go of Ed and stepped back, putting a bright smile on her face. "Of course you do. I'll leave you men to it then. I also have a pot of coffee on in the kitchen, if you don't mind talking back there – it's warmer than it is here too." She turned to leave, dropping a kiss on her husband's cheek, then suddenly turned at the door. "Be careful…all of you. Ed, take care of Roy. He needs someone to look out for him, now more than ever." And she sailed out serenely, having thrown a match into the gunpowder keg.

"Maes, what have you been telling your wife?" Roy gritted out between clenched teeth as he reached into his pocket for his lighter. He was the bloody _Flame Alchemist_ and he could take care of himself, and the fact that Ed had saved him numerous times over the past few weeks and that he rather enjoyed knowing that Ed was looking out for him was neither here nor there, thank you very much.

"Why do _I_ have to look after the deadbeat?" Ed spluttered simultaneously in indignation. The fact that he would have anyway because he owed the man multiple times over for looking out for Al and him as kids and helping him on his quest for the stone, and because he lov…liked the man was not the point, not the point, he chanted mentally to himself.

Maes Hughes took a deep breath and levelled accusing fingers at the two pissed-off State Alchemists in his living room. "Roy. You _do_ need looking after. You may be one of the most politically astute, conniving bastards it has ever been my privilege to know, but as an officer, you should know it's your right and your _duty_ to delegate certain responsibilities. Like your personal safety. You're a bigger target than ever, especially during this transition period before your hold on power is consolidated, and you need to be able to take your mind off watching your back so that you can keep it on the big picture, things like rebuilding the nation and taking Amestris to peace and prosperity. You're no longer just 'Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist,' – you're going to be 'Roy Mustang, Fuhrer,' and that's a whole other kettle of fish." He nodded meaningfully at the dawning realization in his friend's face as the reality of what they were about to take on sank in. Amidst all the chaos of _doing_, Roy hadn't really had the chance to come to terms with what becoming Fuhrer would entail. Heavy indeed was the head that wore the crown.

And as for the Fullmetal Alchemist…"As for you, Ed, you're already committed to it – yes, you _are_," he said firmly as the blonde opened his mouth to object, "because your sense of responsibility won't allow you anything less, and because it's an order from a superior officer, _Lieutenant Colonel Elric_…not to mention that issue of honouring Auric's contract."

"No wonder the Guild always avoided getting mixed up with the military," muttered Ed, "you're a bunch of power-mad martinets." His lips quirked in a resigned smile, the bout of reflexive petulant resistance gone as abruptly as it had come on. "Fine, when you put it that way."

"Too right," said Maes cheerfully. He looked over at Roy, whose eyes had gone from stunned to hooded and his face expressionless in the manner that generally meant he was about to do something incredibly self-sacrificing, or stupid, or possibly both. Uh-oh.

"Gatekeeper." Ed's head snapped around with a jerk. "What are the conditions for our contract to be dissolved?"

"Conclusion, or my release at your pleasure, or my death," Ed responded warily.

Roy nodded, as if that had been the answer he was expecting. "Then I release you from our contract, Gatekeeper."

Ed whirled on him, eyes blazing. "You can't do that!" For some reason, he felt as though the ground under his feet had suddenly fallen away from him and he was lost, spinning into a maelstrom without a tether, lost, falling…and cold, so cold.

"I can, and I have," his ex-client shrugged nonchalantly, heading towards the kitchen. "Now, who wants coffee?" Maes gaped as his old friend brushed by him, but recovered himself in time to reach out and snag Roy's arm. The man turned, the smooth, implacable mask of the Fuhrer-elect now fully in place.

"Yes, Brigadier?"

"Roy…don't do this. Stop closing yourself off from help. You can't do it alone." The phone rang in the next room, and rang again, and Maes groaned. "That'll be Al letting me know the progress of the round-up. They should have picked up the assassin from your rooms at the very least. You two, stay here. Don't kill each other. And for the love of god, _talk_ to each other before I get Armstrong to knock your heads together." He backed out of the room slowly.

There was a heavy silence in the room as the two men avoided each other's eyes. Roy sat down tiredly on the nearest armchair and put his head in his hands, his mask slipping for a moment. Ed regarded the man with narrowed eyes, then shrugged philosophically and padded out of the room. A clattering could be heard, and then Ed reappeared in the doorway with a couple of mugs of coffee, one of which he handed silently to Roy, who accepted it without much fuss. The silence again descended, but it was more comfortable this time as they sipped from their mugs, and Roy finally stirred.

"Thanks."

Ed nodded. "Almost as good as mine, eh?" A hint of laughter rose in his eyes.

"Your humility becomes you," Roy remarked wryly.

"I learnt from the best," came the pointed reply. "You might know him. Tall, dark, incredibly good-looking, absolutely _insufferable_ when you get him started…." That earned him a half-hearted glare, and he rejoiced inwardly, because that meant that Roy wasn't hiding behind that irritatingly cool mask. "Besides, it's a fact. Now, what was that about?" Change of tactics. Perhaps if he sounded reasonable and adult enough, if he could just understand Roy's reasoning, he could find a way to make the man change his mind. He supposed he could try and beat it out of the man, but he didn't think Gracia would appreciate her house being destroyed, and anyway…you always had to have a fallback plan.

Roy arched a brow elegantly at him. "I have no idea what you mean, Fullmetal. You seemed to resent being bound by our agreement. I would have thought you would be ecstatic to be released from it."

"Again, I learnt from the best. The 'what' is almost always insufficient. It's the 'why' that needs answering." Ed refused to look away as Roy's eyes came up to meet his, a strange heat rising in his cheeks. They could hear Maes talking on the phone in the next room, and a part of Ed badly wanted to know how things were going back at Central, but for some reason this was important. That strange sense of purpose that had awakened after his talk with Al was pushing him to stop running away and get a grip on the tangled fates that lay before him, and he knew with a certainty that the dark-eyed man before him was the key to it all. And damn it, it was time they started to talk to each other like adults.

Roy sat back again, his eyes going hooded again. "I've already told you why."

"No, you've told me why you think I should be happy about it. Why are you doing this?" Ed nudged. "The Roy Mustang I remember wouldn't have hesitated to use the contract to further his goals."

"Maybe I've already achieved my goals."

Ed snorted, slapping his hands down on the coffee table, making his now empty mug jump. "Bullshit. You won't be happy until you're safely enthroned with the power to stop all the senseless fighting. And as tonight's proven, you _need_ me. Maybe you think you can use the military chain-of-command to get the same results, but you're always about the backup plan. So why get rid of it?" His eyes narrowed in thought. "Unless…unless you think that nullifying the contract is necessary to achieving some other goal. But what?"

Roy studied the intent face that he had watched grow from boy into man, from reluctant subordinate to something approaching friendship – and that could perhaps grow into something more, if circumstances didn't always seem to come between them. Ed was always one to throw himself headlong into the thick of things in pursuit of the answer to a question, and the Flame Alchemist knew from experience that the Fullmetal was not going to let this drop. "I'll make a deal with you. You tell me why you're so bothered by being released from our agreement, and I'll tell you why I'm doing it. Fair enough?"

There had to be a catch somewhere, the blonde alchemist thought as he stared suspiciously at the Fuhrer-elect. But he wasn't going to get anywhere without it, so…he shrugged fatalistically. Gatekeeper axiom: know when to lose the battle to win the war. Sometimes you had to give the enemy an opening to lure him within striking distance. "Yes. Who goes first?"

A smirk. "I asked."

"Bastard," Ed muttered. "Fine. Just remember, you asked for it." His hand reached subconsciously towards his chest, rubbing at his scar nervously as he took a deep breath and began.


	27. Choices

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

For all the reviewers who asked, Japan was absolutely lovely, I highly recommend a visit. Keeping notes short because my time is very limited at the moment, and I'm sure most of you would prefer I spend what time I do have focused on getting the next chapter out! I know the review function has been acting up lately, and I really appreciate the efforts made to leave me a review, especially when you let me know what you liked about the chapter, whether it's plot, character, description, or just a favourite line. Some of you have told me that you reread previous chapters because you enjoyed them so much or to trace allusions in later chapters back to the source, and I can't tell you how happy that makes me! I thank you, and Auric thanks you.

And now, on with our story. Extra-long chapter, could be heavy going, needed to be told. You have been warned.

_For an explanation of the Section Titles, please see the end of the story.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 27: Choices_**

_**I. Litharge**_

The warrant officer with the pale eyes looked scornfully up at his interrogator as the man glowered down menacingly at him. Typical of the weaklings that would follow a man like Mustang. So they had figured it out somehow, gotten the coward spirited away from his rooms in time. And now they expected him to give up his own leader, the way they would in a similar predicament, no doubt. Well, they would soon find out that the men of General Hakuro weren't so easily cowed. He continued to stare up mutinously at the hulking alchemist with the walrus-like moustache and tight curl in the middle of his forehead. Nothing would make him talk. No sir-ree. Not even any fancy alchemy tricks. Although how this meathead could be a state alchemist was beyond him. Perhaps it was the stress, but he could almost see pink sparkles coming off the man's rippling musculature, which was on full display given that he had shredded his shirt not five minutes into the session, which had induced some slight unease. But the warrant officer had been trained better than that, and apart from a tic that had formed under his left eye, remained stoically silent.

The empty syringe he had been carrying was slammed to the table before his nose and he jumped in surprise, the handcuffs that bound his wrists under the seat of his chair rattling dully before he was pulled back into the chair bolted to the floor by his own arms protesting painfully. He had to admit, the guy knew what he was doing in terms of making him very uncomfortable. He was forced to lean forward at an awkward angle in order to relieve the strain on his shoulders, his face almost planted into the edge of the table, and so his eyes were mere inches from the glittering object as it rolled gently back and forth.

"The weapon of a coward," rumbled his interrogator. "Intended to be used on a sleeping victim. A tiny pin-prick, a small bubble of air introduced into the bloodstream, to travel to the heart, to stop it from beating, a sudden, peaceful death with virtually no evidence of foul play." The man hissed contemptuously between his teeth. "A murder, in other words." He shook his corrugated face sorrowfully from side to side in mock dismay. "What could make a distinguished, decorated veteran like yourself stoop to such petty actions, Warrant Officer? To stab your victim in the back in his rooms instead of facing him on the battlefield and giving him the opportunity to defend himself like a _man_ would? I simply cannot conceive it, that you could be the sole instigator of such a mean thing."

Don't say anything, thought the warrant officer, he's just trying to rile you, trick you into giving something up. Don't say anything…but his jaw hardened and he knew with a certainty that those deceptively mild blue eyes were noting his reaction to being goaded. The man leaned closer, and the pink sparkles seemed to intensify. "At least salvage your honour, Warrant Officer. Help us find the true perpetrators behind this treason."

* * *

From behind the one-way glass, two blonde heads intently watched Armstrong interrogate the assassin, one pale flaxen and the other spun gold. They were almost of a level, although the way the male of the two held himself made him seem a little taller. Edward Elric shook his head tiredly and turned away from the glass. "That's all wrong. He simultaneously goads the man's honour and then asks him to betray it by giving up his comrades – his leader. That might work on a stupider man, but this Warrant Officer – Hendricks, was it? – isn't such a person, not from his personnel file. You'd almost have to admire his loyalty, were it not so misplaced." He had opted to watch the interrogation instead of participating, though he was starting to regret that decision as he itched to be doing something. 

Riza Hawkeye made a sound of disdain, her lips tight as she continued to glare through the glass as though her eyes might bore a hole through which she could reach into the room and strangle the Warrant Officer. Her hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at her side. "Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong is a senior interrogator, he's generally been successful. And if not, well, we still have enough evidence to convict this man and his accomplices in the guards. Summary judgement, even."

"Not the point," her companion sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and dropped into a rickety folding chair. It was now, what, past three in the morning? The stone of the building had achieved that bone-chilling cooled sweat feel and he wrapped his cloak around him a little more securely. Al might be fine with wearing a uniform, but Ed certainly wasn't – it reminded him of the reason he had joined in the first place, and that wasn't something he enjoyed dwelling on particularly. Although he had agreed to wear that dress uniform for the inauguration in a moment of weakness – damn Maes and his damned photo albums, he thought grumpily, carefully ignoring the little voice in his head that was slyly suggesting other motivations for it. He dragged his mind back from his wool-gathering and looked up at Hawkeye, who had turned towards him, puzzled. "This man is just a pawn, and in life, as in chess, we play for the king. Think about it - I could take out Hakuro without breaking a sweat, but that would raise questions – we have to discredit Hakuro so that we can purge the military of him and his powerbase while having Mustang appear above it all, as well as send a clear message to other potential claimants to the position of Fuhrer. And I'd rather not have to stoop to planting evidence – confessions are so much cleaner if you can get them. Although if it comes to that…." He shrugged, the barest up-and-down movement of his shoulders as a bleak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Needs must where the devil drives, Major."

She gaped at the young man, her throat dry, and he raised a curious brow at her. Finally, she croaked out, "That sounds like something the General would say…sir."

"Does not," he said defensively, childishly even. He winced at her formality, knowing they were remembering the same night eight years ago. "It's just…it's practical. It's politics." But in her sad, knowing eyes, he saw himself reflected and knew her statement to be true, and an unreasonable resentment rose up like bile in his throat.

"You're no longer a child, Edward."

* * *

"I said it about Auric, and I'll say it again about Ed - he's no longer a child, Roy." The Brigadier General took advantage of the pause in activity occasioned by the exit of one group of officers from Roy's study and the entry of the next to move a little closer to his friend and continue the hushed argument they had been having in the car on the way over. Through the window overlooking the front of the house, he could see Havoc eyeing a nervous looking major with a jaundiced eye before waving him in – he was taking his security responsibilities very seriously after the scare they had all received barely three hours ago. Maes Hughes had to admit that the few minutes he had waited in his living room for Roy and Ed to turn up had been among the longest of his life, coming as they had on the heels of Alphonse's strained phone-call, a mere jumble of words in his memory now. Crickets. Ed. Assassins. Guards. Roy. And thank goodness for the instincts of a Gatekeeper. He ran a hand through his hair and took his glasses off to clean them, a nervous habit Gracia had never been able to break him of. 

Roy rubbed the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and settled back into his chair, grateful to be back in the familiar surroundings of his own house, even if the constant coming and going of boots on his carpets was leaving stains and scuffs that would likely give his cleaning lady a fit when she came in next Tuesday. Oh well, perhaps he could talk Alphonse Elric into using a bit of alchemy on the more stubborn tracks – the young man would doubtless be more obliging about it than his older brother. Much easier than chalking up the carpet himself. "I thought we had already ascertained that I was fully aware of that, Brigadier. Generally, when one is past the age of eighteen…."

"You're being facetious again, Roy. And you only do that when you know I'm _right_." Maes Hughes shook his head wearily as he carefully settled his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "When are you going to let him make his own choices?" For his sake, and for yours, he wanted to add, but held back, knowing that the wrong words would likely strain Roy's patience to the breaking point.

Eyes ringed by shadows opened to rest coolly on him, the hard glint in their fathomless depths a warning. "As with all my men, Brigadier, I've never let him make anything _but_." And Maes was forced to turn away from that implacable gaze, knowing the truth of it, seeing the pain that flickered behind the flat obsidian stare in the pale face gone grey with fatigue. "If you love something, set it free; if it comes back to you, it's yours…"

"…if not, it was never meant to be?" Maes finished softly. "Have faith in him, Roy."

"I wouldn't dare not," his friend sighed. "He'd kick my ass if I didn't." And a faint glint of humour lightened his dark eyes.

* * *

_**II. Ablution**_

"You still insist that you and you alone planned the assassination of Fuhrer-elect Mustang?"

"Yes!"

"Even though your accomplices among the guards have already confessed that it was someone else who planned it, who gave the order for you to act?"

"Yes! And if they'd confessed, you wouldn't be this desperate for a name, would you, _State Alchemist_?" The words were hissed venomously up at Armstrong, the pale eyes now alight with the flame of a true believer. The interrogation had been going on for hours now, and Ed had to admit, as he watched through the glass, that he was impressed Armstrong had been able to get this far with Warrant Officer Hendricks. At least the man was talking now, if only to mock them. Perhaps the delirium-inducing pink sparkles served a purpose of sorts, he thought wryly, and then shook his head bemusedly - he obviously needed more coffee if he was actually thinking that. Good thing Hawkeye had already left to get some. With difficulty, he dragged his mind back to the scene playing out in the room beyond him, lightly resting his hand against the cold glass as he watched the hapless prisoner gather himself and spit in Armstrong's face. "You'll never get anything out of me. You foolish, soft-minded pawns of that immoral, lily-livered womanizing alchemic _freak_!"

If his right arm hadn't been flesh, Ed would undoubtedly have punched his fist through the plate glass, although really, when you thought about it, the Warrant Officer's insults weren't any worse than some of the things he'd hurled at Roy over the years. Ironic. Instead he dug his nails into his palm and watched with an odd mix of rage and a strange detachment as Armstrong slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out an immaculately folded and monogrammed white handkerchief. With the same deliberate sort of motion, the Strong-arm Alchemist reached up and wiped his face, his expression changing not one whit. He moved back to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair there, sitting down ponderously, the flimsy standard issue chair creaking worriedly under his weight. Hendricks watched with half-frightened eyes as Armstrong tucked his handkerchief away and folded his hands before him on the table. And when he finally spoke, it was with a cold contempt that Ed had never known the sentimental alchemist capable of.

"Whatever else the General is…he is Amestris's best hope for peace and a future. And at least we who follow him _choose_ to do so with our eyes open to the truth. Which is more than I can say for you."

Hendrick's face twisted. And on the other side of the glass, Ed's face did the same as he sank to his knees, understanding hitting him in a dizzying wave, that nauseating sensation of the ground falling away from beneath his feet returning in full force.

_Choice. _A choice. That was what the bastard had been giving him - had always given him. And he'd been too dense to understand.

Images of his last conversation with the man unspooled disjointedly across his mind's eye like the jerky frames of a film reel. He had finished telling Mustang what he had told Al earlier. Had shown him the scar. Had admitted – and it had been hard – that he felt lost, confused, vulnerable - useless. And that the contract gave him a purpose. A duty that had to be fulfilled. A goal to head towards. That as much as he griped about it, he needed that structure, something to cling to in an intransigent world. And after all that, he'd looked up at the dark-haired man, hoping for something – anything – to hold on to…hell, he would even have settled for one of those infamously snide remarks to rage at. But Roy had remained stubbornly silent.

"Well?"

"Well what, Fullmetal?" Roy had steepled his fingers before his face and closed his eyes while listening to Ed's story. As he spoke, he opened his eyes, but Ed had not been able to read the emotion that lurked in their dark depths.

"Damn it, bastard, don't jerk me around like one of your puppets," he had snarled, lashing out for lack of anything else to do, using the man as a punching bag the way he always had, ignoring the voice in his head that pointed out he was being irrational and childish - a voice made doubly annoying by the fact that it sounded remarkably like his own.

Roy had examined his nails in an elaborate display of unconcern. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not derive amusement from jerking people around, Fullmetal. Well, perhaps just you, every now and then." And then in response to a wordless snarl from Ed, he had raised a slender brow in a seemingly momentary flare of irritation. "Come on, Ed, you think I've got the whole world on strings?"

Golden eyes had sparked in surprise then, Mustang's studiously offhand remark ringing a bell in distant memory, shocking his mind into a higher state of awareness, bringing up remembered frustration, anger, blame…blame which had been misdirected, he realized with the benefit of years of hindsight. With the typically selfish worldview of a child, he had wanted the man to give him what he wanted, when he wanted it, without thought as to what it might cost Mustang, and standing there in Maes's living room, he had felt a slow burn rise in his cheeks as he looked back upon all that he had demanded of the man back then, and all that he had been given in spite of himself. Roy's dark eyes had rested thoughtfully on his face, watching him carefully as if searching for something, and then a satisfied look had crossed his face as he rose to his feet gracefully. "This has been most enlightening, Fullmetal, but I think I hear a car outside, which means it is time to take my leave. You have my sincerest thanks for your…_services_ tonight," and the infuriating smirk that twisted the man's lips as he allowed his mocking tone to tease and insinuate had lent a bizarre veneer of normalcy to the situation. Looking back at it now though, the blonde alchemist could see that what he had taken to be the man's usual arrogance had really been a front to hide a deeper vein of pain.

"Wait a minute!" Ed had snapped, shooting to his own feet as he glared belligerently at the older alchemist. "_Quid pro quo_, asshole. I told you my reasons, now you tell me yours. We had an _agreement_."

Roy had shrugged. "My reasons are obvious, if you will only take the time to think about it. Now that you're no longer a child, you might want to try using your head before resorting to violence, Fullmetal, you'll find it a refreshing change, I'm sure." And with that, the man had headed for the door, leaving Ed gaping, caught between disbelief and blind rage.

"Whatever it takes, I'm sure Mustang'll guide us through it." Ed had quoted bitterly at the older alchemist's back, remembering a young Lieutenant Colonel who had sought him out in Risembool eight years ago and his words to Al at that time. That man's older counterpart had paused in the doorway, but had not turned around. "Ha. My ass."

"I will still guide you, Ed, if you so _choose_," and Ed had started at the use of his name and the gentle but emphatic tone with which the General spoke. "But I never could hold you. Not even as a child, and never as a man. _Auric_ understood that when he chose to enter into the contract." With that, Roy had left, Havoc's security detail swarming about him, guns bristling, as they had hurriedly bundled him into a huge black car that purred off into the night, Maes sparing the blonde alchemist a worried backward glance as he had followed in the chase car. And Ed had teleported himself back to Central in a state of extreme confusion, a state that had not lifted in the hours since. Until now. Damn the man. When Ed got hold of him, the first thing he was going to teach the bastard was how to speak plainly and not in code. Alchemist or not, there had to be _some_ limits.

The slender blonde alchemist wrapped his arms around his knees as he sat up with his back against the wall and rocked himself gently back and forth, deep in thought. "My reasons are obvious…I will still guide you, Ed, if you so _choose_…." Roy's words echoed around his aching head. Shit. How could he have been so blind? He'd been so caught up in his own problems that he failed to remember the old Gatekeeper saw: There are two sides to every gate. That is, the easiest way to understand a situation was always to look at it from the other's point of view.Roy had dissolved the contract because Ed had made it seem as though he was honouring it under duress, and Roy's damned code of honour would not allow him bind his men to him through fear, or coercion, or anything _but _a choice made out of their own free will. He would willingly assume the burden of leading them, but only if they were willing to acknowledge that it had been their choice to follow and to live with the consequences of that choice. Hawkeye, Havoc, Fury, Hughes and Armstrong – all of them had made the choice to follow the man with their eyes wide open. And now he was giving Ed the opportunity to do the same.

Ed scowled to himself. That was what Mustang had meant when he said that Auric had understood. The Gatekeeper had been the one to seal the contract, an implicit acknowledgement that he was making the choice of his own free will, that he alone was accountable for his choices – that he was an adult, free and independent. An _equal_, in other words, and Mustang had treated him as such. But Ed had not chosen to enter the contract, and Mustang would not hold him to a promise made by another – more than that, would not allow him to use the contract as a crutch to avoid having to make choices that he would now be solely responsible for as an adult. If he chose to stay by Mustang's side, that would be entirely his decision – as it would be if he chose to leave. A reluctant smile crept across his face as he heard his own voice telling Al, "He pushes everyone to the limits of their potential – and beyond." _Bastard_, he inserted automatically. _What would you do if I just walked away?_

_Let you go_, was the nonchalant answer. He could almost see the man standing in front of him, regarding him with that infuriating smirk and those mocking eyes. _But it would be a pity – I gave Auric the same choice, remember? And he chose to stay and face his fears, find his purpose. But then we can't expect the same courage from a pipsqueak, can we?_

_Don't call me short! And I am not afraid_, he snapped testily. _And I can't believe I'm arguing with you in my head. Manipulative sneaky lazy shithead…._

_Language, Fullmetal. You're old enough to know better. And technically, since I'm in your head, as you so clearly put it, I do believe that you just called yourself sho…._

_Don't condescend to me, you son-of-a-bitch._

An amused snicker. _Déjà vu. Don't make me._

The Fullmetal Alchemist groaned and banged his head against the wall. Choices. Always with the damned choices. The only time he could remember ever having been free of this constant struggle was when mama had been alive and he had been a child…he froze and ran that last thought over again. He hadn't been a child ever since he made that first choice to try and bring his mother back. And that first choice had led to so many others. Sacrificing his arm to bind Al's soul to the armour. Choosing to live and accept the automail. And then remembering the offer made by that young officer with the dark hair…his eyes went wide and unseeing as another mini-epiphany dawned.

That velvet voice spoke up in his mind again. _So you begin to see. You've always made your own choices._ And Roy's voice was just too damnably kind and understanding, and Ed found himself having to fight back the lump in his throat. _All I could do for you back then was to help you, open up more options for you to choose from. _The military and its resources. The State Alchemist examinations. The missions – and the 'unauthorized' side trips. Ed's mind swam as he suddenly saw his entire life through another set of eyes.

But Roy had done more than simply provide choices. He had allowed Ed to maintain some semblance of normalcy by making himself a shield and a scapegoat – and not just for the countless buildings that Ed had damaged during his missions, either. Allowing Ed to take his rage - and fear, and misery at being thrust so quickly into adulthood – out on him meant that Ed could avoid having to accept that his actions generally had consequences. He was already struggling with the greatest of them, reminded of it every time he looked at his brother trapped in the ponderous suit of armour - Roy could at least protect him for a while from the rest of it. And so he had, allowing Ed to pursue his goals unhindered. Had let him fall. Had given of himself – and had let Ed go anyway, and had accepted the pain and loneliness that was the consequence of that choice. Had honoured him by never stooping to something as mean as pity. And so now, four years on, they had reached a crossroads. If being a child meant living without care for the consequences of choices, being an adult meant learning to accept those consequences. And if Ed wanted to be regarded as an adult…an equal…a _partner_, and his traitorous mind lingered longer than it should have on that word, remembering the feel of bare skin and deft hands and silken lips….

Choices. Live or die. Stay or go. Rise or fall. Give up…or press on. He knew what his choice was. He'd even lectured the Gate about it, and he'd be damned if he let it make a hypocrite out of him now. And just like that, he suddenly felt a sense of purpose coalesce in his chest and settle in with equanimity. Time to get up and get on with living. So he didn't know _exactly_ what he was supposed to do now – he'd wing it the way he always had, it wasn't so different from waking up on the other side of the Gate with no memories, after all. Al might not need him anymore, but that smirking bastard could certainly use the help. His fate lay before him, even if he couldn't yet see it clearly, and he would just have to deal with it one choice at a time, and he could swear he heard Alp sigh in relief that his thickheaded Gatekeeper partner had finally remembered the unofficial motto of their Guild. Funny, that duality of thought and feeling that he had been grappling with was gone, in its place a centred certainty, and the thought crossed his mind that a crown also symbolized the perfection of a metal, oddly appropriate in light of his official title as a State Alchemist. And in a sudden release of tension, he began to laugh, clutching at his stomach, tears running down his face as he giggled and fell over onto his side, curling up as he gave himself over to a mild case of hysterics. Fullmetal indeed.

He was still laughing when the door opened to reveal Hawkeye standing there with a coffeepot in one hand and a couple of mugs in the other, looking surprised at finding the Fullmetal Alchemist giggling in the middle of the floor as though he'd lost his mind. "Sir…Edward, are you all right?"

The young man struggled manfully to tame his hysteria, burying his face in his hands, from behind which strangled snickers could be heard. Finally, he looked up at her, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. "Everything's fine, Major. Just…growing pains." He didn't elaborate, and she didn't pursue it, but sometimes Riza Hawkeye wondered if it was some kind of State Alchemist requirement that they all speak in code whenever possible to drive others around them crazy. And the Fullmetal was becoming just as bad as the Flame for particularly obscure doubletalk. "Being an adult really sucks, sometimes, you know that?"

Well, that last bit, at least, had been quite clear. Riza spun a mental wheel in her mind, selecting from the four answers all soldiers were taught would cover any eventuality: No, sir; Aye, aye, sir; No excuse, sir; and oh, the one she was looking for…"Yes, sir." And they shared a moment of perfect mutual understanding as their eyes met. She hefted the chipped blue coffeepot a little higher. "I think this will help though - I added a slug of the whiskey the General hides in his desk drawer. The good stuff."

Ed raised a sardonic brow at her, looking remarkably like the Flame Alchemist as he drawled, "Hawkeye…you _stole_ Mustang's whiskey?"

"Temporarily liberated, sir," she corrected. He smirked, and she added defensively, "I put it back. And anyway…he steals my favourite pen all the time and thinks I don't notice!" She glowered back defiantly, looking remarkably like a certain very blonde alchemist in his younger days.

"Oh believe me, I'm not complaining," Ed sighed as he reached up for the mug of coffee that she held out. The first sip scalded his tongue, but it felt good going down, and he luxuriated in the warm glow that slowly suffused his body as he rolled his head gently from side to side, trying to relieve the tension in his shoulders.

"Has Colonel Armstrong had any further success with the prisoner?"

Ed made a face as he stood up and stretched carefully. He could feel the tightness of his muscles from his earlier workout – what he wouldn't give for a good massage. Mmm. He wondered idly if Mustang's hands had quite healed yet. "Don't think so. Ah well. Guess it's time for Plan B." _All right, bastard, I'm choosing to do this. For you. Because I want to. Happy? _A silent smirk was his only answer, and he shook his head at himself. He needed to go find the _real_ Mustang and have it out with him…but first things first, he had to secure the man's safety, and there was only one way to do that. Ah, the joys of political intrigue. For all his ambivalence about it, it had been widely known among the Gatekeeper community that the one among them called Auric displayed a particular finesse for manipulating exceptionally complex situations, and the Guild had been only too happy to make use of that currency. It was time he spent some of it on affairs of his own.

Hawkeye eyed her nominally superior officer suspiciously, because the young man had sounded entirely too blasé about the situation. A certain General tended to adopt that tone whenever he was about to do something he knew she wouldn't agree with entirely – perhaps he was rubbing off on Edward. "What's Plan B?"

A sudden flash of fang made her step back involuntarily. "That would be me and Hendricks alone in the room and you two waiting outside, please. What you don't see, you won't have to know anything about."

Hawkeye paled. "Sir…you know military regulations prohibit physical torture of any kind. And you _are_ an officer, whether or not you choose to wear the uniform…."

He turned mock-sorrowful eyes on her. "Major Hawkeye, I'm hurt! Don't you trust me? Besides, the key here is…I don't wear a uniform. Despite that, you know and I know that I'm…subject to military regulations. But does he? Fear can be a useful lever – Gatekeeper axiom when acting as…influencers." He clapped his hands together abruptly, a sharp crack like a gun going off, and she jumped, instinctively reaching for her own weapon as her eyes darted about searching for the telltale cracklings of alchemic energy. Ed held his hands up in a gesture of peace even as a glittering smile spread over his face. "See?"

"Is there any role Gatekeepers won't take on?" she asked grumpily as she took in a deep breath, trying to slow her racing pulse. "And respectfully, Lieutenant Colonel Elric, sir, if you ever do that again, I _will shoot you._"

The golden gaze turned archly mocking. "Noted, Major. And almost everything has a price. Although I do try to avoid doing the dishes. And windows, they're a pain. I can cook and make beds, though."

"I'm sure the General will be most appreciative, sir," she said, straight-faced - and was rewarded with a genuine laugh.

* * *

_The litharge (or letharge) is the leftover scum, spume, or ashes of a metallic operation._

_Ablution is the process of washing a solid with a liquid, usually in water. Spiritually and psychologically, it is facing one's emotions and letting feelings flow, so that innocence and purity can be restored._


	28. Women Troubles

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

**_Chapter 28: Women Troubles_**

The train rattled on over sections of old and new track, jolting a little more than usual as its wheels passed over joints that weren't quite worn smooth yet. Its mostly upper-class passengers weren't complaining, however – it was enough of a miracle as it was that the tracks had been re-laid in such a short period of time, and they were all eager to get to Central in time for the inauguration of the new Fuhrer. Few of them were aware, however, that the persons responsible for that minor miracle were within their midst.

Alphonse Elric sprawled out wearily along the full length of the train seat, grateful that they had the compartment to themselves – amazing what flashing a State Alchemist's pocket watch along with a meaningful glare could get you, and Ed was very, very good at the latter. It had been a trying few days. First, that ugly business of General Hakuro and his attempt to assassinate General Mustang, then an emergency trip out to a small town up north which had been virtually decimated during the conflicts and whose municipal system was stretched to breaking point as refugees from further north washed down. The tracks leading to the town had been blown up at some point, so Ed had had to teleport them there, causing some consternation – and no small amount of hero-worship on the part of the local children – when they had appeared in the middle of the town square. Al had then proceeded to live up to his title of Earth Moving Alchemist, raising emergency shelters out of the rubble and muck, while Ed dealt with the finer points of sorting out some form of leadership in the town and organizing emergency supplies and medical aid. And then a messenger from the next town over had arrived, half-starved and on foot, the telegraph and telephone wires to his hometown having been severed and the train station destroyed, leaving them unable to request aid any other way, and thence had the brothers Elric travelled posthaste. Together they had hastily patched enough of the tracks to enable emergency supplies to be dispatched from down south, and restrung the wires, putting that town back in contact with the rest of the country – that had been exceptionally taxing for Ed, who had had to teleport them from pole to pole, but at least the town would now be able to request aid if anything else cropped up. Al twitched as he remembered the stench of burning wood and decaying flesh that had hung over the town when they first arrived, and the vacant look of the children, and the desperation in the faces of the adults. Thank goodness his family had been safe in Risembool – while subject to rationing with the rest of the country, the town had escaped untouched for the most part, allowing people to live off their land. It was almost springtime, and he wondered idly if he would be back in time to seed the vegetable garden. Perhaps he could request leave for a couple of weeks, once things were more settled.

He looked across the compartment at the supine form of his brother, who was curled up on the seat opposite wrapped in his cloak with his hood over his face, a shapeless green lump that moved slightly with Ed's breathing. The Fullmetal Alchemist had basically stumbled into the compartment, fallen onto the seat, mumbled something about waking him when they got to Central, and passed out, not even stirring when the food trolley had come around. Just in case though, Al had gotten him a couple of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee – a tired Edward Elric was one thing, Al could deal with that, but a tired and _hungry_ one was just…not even worth contemplating. Ed had been a tireless force of nature in the towns, a golden-eyed whirlwind that seemed everywhere at once, shoring up buildings and spirits alike through sheer force of will, his petite figure at odds with the power and warmth he literally radiated just standing still, but even so, a body could only take so much before it was running on empty. The children had taken instantly to him, and he would inevitably be trailing a small entourage whenever they were in an area longer than a bare half-hour, much to Ed's chagrin and Al's amusement. Some of them were so little that they reminded him of his daughter, and he wondered wistfully how much he'd missed just over the last month or so. It hadn't really been all that long since Ed had returned, first as Auric, and then as himself, and yet it had been all too easy to fall back into the familiar pattern of working for the military and watching over his brother, and away from his role as father and husband. Winry had sounded a little worried the last time he'd spoken to her, right before they'd left. It's all right though, he thought hopefully, she and Winnie will be arriving soon for the inauguration, and things will go back to normal. Won't they?

His brother chose that moment to lurch upwards with a muffled shout that made Al jump. "Brother?"

Bleary golden eyes blinked unfocusedly at Al for a moment, then cleared. "Oh. Al." Ed looked around, pushing back his hood and scrubbing his face with his hands. "We're still on the train, huh?" he asked dully.

"Yes. It's running behind at the moment, but we should be in Central in half-an-hour," Al said helpfully, handing his brother the food he'd had the good sense to purchase and watching in bemusement as the offering was inhaled ravenously. How Ed managed not to choke while eating that fast was still a mystery to the younger man. "Actually, we'll get in around the same time as Winry's train."

"Maybe we should just wait at the station to meet her then," suggested Ed, brushing a few stray crumbs of his lap. "It's always nice to have someone waiting for you when you get off a train, and I've been looking forward to seeing her and Winnie. We don't have to report in right away after all – we did send them a telegram letting them know we would have to repair the tracks before catching a train back." Al had refused to let him teleport them back, saying he was over-extended and pushing it, and Ed hadn't bothered to argue. While not as enervating as opening a Gate, teleportation could be exhausting if done too frequently. Like every damn downed telegraph pole, for example.

"Sure," Al agreed amiably. "So, what were you dreaming about?"

Ed's eyes glinted in the light of the late afternoon sun streaming into their compartment as his eyes flicked up to meet his brother's and then away again. "Nothing important."

* * *

The train pulled into Central with a screech of brakes and a piercing whistle, and the sounds of doors slamming open and passengers retrieving their packages from the overhead racks jolted the brothers from the comfortable reverie they had fallen into. Ed stood and led the way into the corridor towards the exit, only to stop stock still in the doorway, resulting in a yelp from Al as he bumped into his back. "What's wrong?" He peered over Ed's shoulder. "Oh…." 

The platform was swarming with reporters. They appeared to be interested in the various self-important people stepping off the train, yelling out inane questions about what they thought of the war, how the train ride had been, and what-do-you-think-of-our-new-and-highly-eligible-bachelor-Fuhrer, that last targeted mainly at the blushing young ladies escorted by various fussy looking chaperones, evidently unmarried daughters being packed off to the inauguration celebrations in hopes of making a good match. Al watched his brother's face nervously, knowing how Ed loathed this sort of thing, but to his credit, Ed appeared to be remaining calm, save for the tensing of a muscle in his jaw and a growl under his breath as he made to shoulder his way through the seething crowd. "This is ridiculous. Come on, Al, let's see if we can slip past them and find the platform Winry's arriving on."

"It's the Fullmetal Alchemist!" The cry went up almost before Ed's foot had hit the platform, and he swore at his idiocy in not pulling up his hood to cover his telltale hair as he was abruptly blinded by a sea of flashes. "Colonel Elric! Over here! Here! Sir! Fullmetal Alchemist! Where are you coming back from? Are you ready for the inauguration tomorrow? Will you be wearing your uniform for the ceremonies? What's your favourite colour? Can you give us any details as to your involvement in the foiling of the attempt made by General Hakuro on General Mustang's life? Where were you for the past four years?" The questions ran into each other, leaving Ed's head swimming as he grimly plastered a glittering smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. While he would like nothing better than to teleport away to the relative sanity of HQ, he couldn't very well leave Al, and they were supposed to be meeting Winry anyway. A few of the nobles stepping out from their private carriages looked vaguely affronted at being virtually ignored by the presshounds, but the photographers knew which side their bread was buttered on, and editors would certainly pay far more for a few candid shots of the highly photogenic Fullmetal Alchemist than for yet another picture of Count Orff or Duchess von und zu Resdesdale. Especially with his ponytail and cloak whipping behind him in the wind like that.

"Everyone, please!" said Al loudly from behind Ed. He moved forward protectively, summoning up an impressive glower that made the reporters all take two steps back very quickly, and Ed wondered for a moment how Al could be so mild-mannered when it came to his own affairs and so very intimidating in the defence of others. Unfortunately, the reporters were only momentarily daunted, falling silent for a few seconds before the yelling started up again, "Major Elric! How much of an influence did your brother have on you deciding to become a State Alchemist? Could you move closer to your brother for a photograph please, turn this way, good! Excellent! Did you know where your brother was the last four years? Are the two of you still close? Is it true you married a mutual childhood friend and is your brother jealous?"

"Jealous?" the brothers squeaked in unison.

"Earth Moving Alchemist! Did you marry the girl to upstage your younger brother the way he upstaged you in Alchemy?"

Alphonse winced, bracing himself. There was a loud clap and a crackle of bright blue alchemic energy, and a roar, "_I _am the _older_ brother!" and Al lunged forward to grab Ed's arm before his brother could do permanent damage to the hapless questioner. "And who are you calling short? And there's nothing wrong with my brother's alchemic ability! And…."

"Does that mean you're available, Colonel Elric?" The question, uttered in a particularly shrill and piercing voice by a skinny female reporter dressed in violently mismatched colours, cut through the melee like a knife. Ed froze like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and stunned, and the reporter took the opportunity to tack on, "There are a lot of lovely young ladies in Amestris who would _love_ to know the answer to that question! I don't think there's ever been a pair of eligible society bachelors in Amestris quite like the Flame and the Fullmetal!"

"My brother already has someone in his life," Al blurted hastily, hoping to put an end to that line of questioning. Unfortunately, it was like throwing meat to the wolves as a chorus of excited baying broke out.

"Who is she? Is she an alchemist too? What's her name? How old is she? How did you meet her? Will there be nuptials any time soon?"

Whoops, wrong thing to say. This was…bad, Al decided. Very bad. He looked at Ed, who was looking more ill-at-ease by the second. His brother had always been an incredibly private person when it came to personal matters, and it didn't get a whole lot more personal than this. Not to mention there was that _other _issue. And then a welcome voice came floating to them over the crowd.

"Get out of the way! Excuse me, woman with baby here, and _that's my husband._ Move! Git! Or do I have to hurt you with this hammer?" A loud metallic crash and a cry of pain followed almost immediately.

As one, the brothers Elric exclaimed in mingled relief and trepidation, "Winry!"

* * *

"Huh. Society bachelor, eh? Did I not tell you to watch yourself?" Winry Rockbell Elric snorted in disbelief. She supposed that if she looked at it objectively, Ed really had grown into a very attractive young man. To her, however, he would always be the rambunctious yet fiercely protective older brother, closer than blood, and she found it hard to think of him as anything _but_. "Those young ladies in society are even worse than in the country, I hear; they're all frantically seeking husbands and a State Alchemist would be quite a catch. You're going to be fodder for the gossip papers for a while." 

"That was _Auric _you told, and I don't think you were referring to desperate debutants or rabid reporters at the time, Winry," Ed protested feebly, his stomach turning over at the thought. This was an unforeseen complication that he did not feel particularly equipped to handle, although a little voice in his head pointed out that he _should_ and _would_ have foreseen it had it been happening to anyone else. How did Mustang handle it with such aplomb? The thought suddenly flashed through his mind that half of the General's reputation had probably been undeserved, generated purely by the frenzied press and judiciously used to the man's advantage, and a bolt of sneaky admiration and intense longing for the man's deft political skills - and for the man himself - shot through his veins.

His childhood friend and sister-in-law waved his objection off airily. "Whatever. So," and Winry's sky-blue eyes gleamed predatorily, "are you?"

Ed nearly knocked over his coffee. The three of them were sitting in a booth at a little café not far from the train station, with Winnie on Al's lap, having successfully given the press the slip through the judicious application of Gatekeeper cunning…and a few well-placed flying wrenches. "Am I what?"

"Involved with anyone, idiot. Al said you had someone in your life? It seems pretty soon, if you only just got your memories back a few weeks ago."

The renowned Fullmetal Alchemist blanched and glared at his little brother, who shrugged apologetically. "It was the first thing that came to mind. I thought it would make them stop asking questions!"

"Al…" Ed rubbed his temples wearily, reminding himself forcibly that the young man, while extremely intelligent, was _not _Alp and hence not necessarily as well versed in the ways of the world and the great game that was politics. Hell, he'd done it for four years and he still hated the prying press. "Here's the first rule of dealing with the press: Don't. Deny, deny, deny. Better still, just smile and be enigmatic and elusive and _don't respond to the damned questions_."

Winry glared. "Language, Ed! Not in front of the K-I-D." And then her expression abruptly melted into one of complete consternation. "Wait a minute… 'Just smile and be _enigmatic_ and _elusive'_? You sound like General Mustang. Ed, what have they done to you?"

"No one's done anything to me, Winry; it's just…it's practical! It's politics," and Ed found himself flustered as he was forced to defend himself to yet another scary blonde. Really, Riza and Winry could be too alike sometimes. "And I do not sound like Roy…."

"_Roy_?"

Shit, thought Ed. Busted.

Al peeped faintly and hugged his daughter a little closer. Little Winnie seemed to know instinctively that something was going on, because she suddenly ceased her wriggling and stared in fascination at her mother and uncle, the latter studiously avoiding the incredulous gaze of the former.

"Edward Elric…_Alphonse Elric_…is there something you're not telling me?"

* * *

Ed strode down the corridor leading to the Fuhrer's official suite of offices rubbing his throbbing temple with one hand, his report under his arm and a battered leather satchel slung from his shoulder as he juggled Winnie gently in the crook of the other arm. While fast reflexes had enabled him to avoid most of Winry's wrenches, he had gallantly chosen to take one in the temple to protect a terrified waitress who had been bringing them a refill on their coffees. Rapid silent mental communication between the brothers had then resulted in Ed grabbing Winnie while Al grabbed Winry and hauled her off to a romantic dinner, courtesy of the Green Lion, in order to calm her down. The blonde alchemist silently blessed Havoc for telling him about the waiter's case of hero-worship – he had stopped by briefly ahead of Al and Winry to secure a table for the duo and despite the crush of people desperate for reservations, all it had cost him was a hastily scribbled signature across an old news clipping with a photo of him and Roy duelling, the big black type above it reading, "Flame vs. Fullmetal!" He smiled reminiscently at the memory as he shifted the leather strap of the satchel containing Winnie's things, trying to get comfortable. Who would have thought baby things could weigh this much? Winnie dozed contentedly against his other shoulder, secure in her uncle's arms, and Ed sighed – he could feel a damp spot forming on his cloak despite the little handkerchief her cheek was pillowed on. But she did look absolutely angelic, a lot like Al had when he was little. He wondered idly if her eyes would stay blue like Winry's or if they would darken to Al's silver-grey as she got older. 

HQ was strangely empty, it being past dinner time. The few people left in the building were either poring over last minute preparations for the inauguration or on duty, and Ed nodded to a couple of them as he went by, acknowledging the snappy salutes even as he filed their faces away in his mind. Even if he couldn't always remember their names, he remembered the faces, and one of the changes he had insisted on after the Hakuro incident was that the Fuhrer-elect's personal guards would consist of men hand-picked by himself or Jean Havoc for both military prowess and loyalty. And discretion – he noted with some amusement that while Winnie was attracting many curious glances, the men were carefully ignoring her presence in the building, which was probably not strictly regulation. But he was babysitting for the night to give Al and Winry time alone, and he had to turn in his report and Al's, so…he shrugged philosophically to himself. Hawkeye got to bring her _dog_ in, for crying out loud.

Mustang's outer office was empty, but the fan of light that spread out from under the door to his office indicated that the man himself was still in the building working. Ed made to knock on the door, then hesitated. He hadn't seen Roy since the night of the attempted assassination, as the emergency call up north had necessitated a departure so precipitous that he hadn't even had a chance to be debriefed, and a little voice in his head pointed out that there would be no going back from what happened here and now. As he stood on the threshold vacillating, Winnie chose that moment to wake up and stuff her small fist into her mouth, before removing it and letting out a preparatory hiccup that Ed had already learnt meant that she was hungry and needed to be fed. He smiled wryly down at her. "You do know how to force the issue, don't you, little one? Just like your mother. Oh well. Wish your uncle luck then." And with that, he took a deep breath and rapped firmly on the door.

"Enter!"


	29. Almost Like Old Times

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

In re: details of interrogations and assassinations. Patience is a virtue. That's all I'm gonna say. Thanks to all the faithful reviewers, glad you're still with me, and a warm hello and welcome to the newbies, glad you could make it!

**_Chapter 29: Almost Like Old Times_**

The Fuhrer-elect looked up, puzzled. He could have sworn he'd heard a knock at his door, but despite the invitation to enter, no one had. He must be hearing things; old buildings often had odd creaks and knocks in the evening as beams and boards heated by day began to cool and settle back into their joists. Still…just to be safe, he slid his gloves on, enjoying the feeling of the rough fabric against his skin, luxuriating in being able to flex his hands without pain. The doctors had finally pronounced him healed sufficiently to snap his fingers, and he had annoyed Hawkeye immeasurably this afternoon by letting off sparks left and right dangerously close to various very-important-secret-and-confidential documents. He didn't even mind the new bullet hole in the wall just behind and to the left of where his head would be when he was seated, and he smiled at the small blemish before turning back to his paperwork, casting a dubious eye at the door one more time. And then a movement in his peripheral vision made him jerk his head around and he snapped instinctively in words and deed, "Who's there?"

There was a muffled growl, and then Edward Elric was suddenly standing before his desk in the middle of his carpet, looking extraordinarily irritated, wisps of hair falling about his face from the speed of his teleport away from the burst of flame Roy had conjured up. "Watch it, bastard, you could have hurt Winnie! Did you not hear me? I asked if you would mind opening the door, my hands are full!" And indeed they were, much to Roy's bemusement, as Winnie eyed him dubiously and blew a spit-bubble, wriggling enthusiastically in her uncle's arms.

"Ah. Fullmetal. I see all of my subordinates appear to be incapable of knocking before entering. And I _knew_ there were perks to being Fuhrer – late nights, bad coffee, having to open doors for people…." Roy's dark eyes gleamed sardonically, but at least he wasn't acting…well…_weird_, Ed thought in some relief, if anything, this was just like old times when Ed would return from a mission and stumble in reluctantly to deliver his report. It was so much easier – and so much more _interesting _-sparring with Roy than it was to make polite remarks to a bunch of tittering women. Not that he'd ever actually admit as much to the man – someone had to keep his ego in check.

"You're not Fuhrer yet, and I _did_ knock, asshole! But I figured teleporting into the office was better than me breaking the door down. I could give it a kick if you like, for old times sake." Ed's eyes travelled slowly from Roy's gloved hands to the bullet hole in the wall, and a long-suffering look flitted across his face. "Good to see you're back to your old form. Hawkeye must be pissed. Bastard," he added, almost as an afterthought. No sense in completely breaking with tradition, after all. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

"Hawkeye left to meet her parents at the train station, and Havoc offered to drive her. They're coming in from their home in West City for the inauguration. Maes was expected home for dinner, as was Armstrong, and I ordered Fury to leave the office early for once – he's been running himself ragged sorting out the logistics around the various diplomatic delegations, lodging, protocol and so on." Ed noted that Roy had, as usual, exempted himself from the blanket order – because Ed had no doubt whatsoever that it had been an order that had pried Hawkeye loose – to leave the office early and get some rest before the next day's ceremonies. What did the man think he was, a martyr? Winnie chose that moment to let out another squeal, and Roy's brows rose into his bangs. "My office is not a crib, Fullmetal."

"Stuff it, bastard. This is Al and Winry's daughter, Winnie. I'm babysitting for them tonight, and she's overexcited and needs to be calmed down and fed, so I took her to the most boring place I could think of." And Ed jogged the child up and down in the crook of his arm, eyes glinting defiantly as Winnie cooed happily.

Roy's face didn't change at all, and yet he somehow managed to convey the distinct sense that he questioned the prudence of Al's decision as he drawled in a suspiciously neutral tone of voice, "They left a _baby_. With _you_."

"What?" Ed asked defensively and with some exasperation. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of her - I took care of Al when we were little, didn't I?" Roy continued to eye him carefully, and Ed deflated slightly. "Well, I helped mama, kind of. And Gatekeepers like children – they're like the hope and promise of a new beginning. I once had to stay a few months with a family that had three young kids."

The Flame Alchemist's expression softened as he took in the sight of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist carefully dabbing the drool from his niece's cheeks and chin. Winnie looked up, gurgling, and focused briefly on the tall man smiling at her from behind the desk. Perhaps it was the unusual colour of his dark hair and eyes gleaming blue-black in the lamplight that attracted her attention, so different from the flaxen hair that prevailed in her usual surroundings, because she suddenly grinned, showing two perfect little miniature teeth, and held out her arms to Roy to be carried. "Hey!" Ed protested as her weight shifted suddenly. "Not you too, sweetie, he's really not the sort of guy you should be falling for, believe me. In more ways than one. We'll find you a nice one like your daddy, not this smirking, manipulative, self-important…."

"Face it, Fullmetal, the pretty ones all love me," Roy smirked on cue, and Ed rolled his eyes. Much to the younger man's surprise, the Flame Alchemist didn't baulk, instead reaching for the little girl after carefully removing his gloves so the rough fabric wouldn't scratch her delicate skin. "May I?"

Ed sighed. "Fine, just don't come whining to me when she drools on your uniform, oh great one." He came around the desk and handed her carefully to the Fuhrer-elect, noting with some surprise the ease with which Roy took the little girl and arranged her in his arms. Winnie gurgled happily as Roy chucked her under the chin gently. "Practice with Alicia?"

Roy looked up smiling, a small but genuine smile that lit his face and made him look years younger. "Some…but mostly from helping out with my younger brother as I was growing up." Ed cocked his head to one side and eyed Roy. This was the first time the man had ever mentioned his family.

"You have a younger brother?"

And just like that, the animation was gone again. "Had." A bland mask slid over his features, and Ed had to restrain himself from yelling at the man for doing that, for always putting up walls that didn't need to _be_ there in order to appear strong. It might be necessary with everyone else, but not with Ed. Or it shouldn't be.

"I'm sorry." Trite words coming from anyone else, but not from Ed. And he could see that Roy knew he understood more than anyone had a right to.

The Flame Alchemist nodded, suddenly feeling oddly naked under that burning tawny gaze that seemed to glow brighter than the lamps in the room, and he had to fight the urge to either flee the room or jump Ed and ravage him senseless, both wholly inappropriate thoughts for the future Fuhrer. And he'd promised himself that anything between them would be Ed's choice, because he deserved that right and not to be held to a promise made in the excesses of callow youth. And anyway…from a purely practical standpoint, Winnie's weight on his lap was trapping him in his seat. "So. You came to deliver your report, I assume?"

"Yeah," and Ed flopped tiredly onto one of the small settees in the office, tossing a sheaf of papers onto the coffee table and propping his mud-spattered boots up next to them. Roy stood, still carrying Winnie, and came over to sit opposite. Ed was carelessly sprawled across the small sofa in what would have been an awkward position for anyone else. Somehow though, with his head tipped back and eyes closed, the line of his throat laid bare in the warm glow of the lamps on the end tables, he looked rather like a fallen angel, and Roy caught himself staring in wonder. He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat self-consciously.

"I hear you had a few…problems at the station."

Ed pulled a pillow over his face and groaned. "How the hell do you always know these things? And why do I bother writing reports if you already know what I've been doing?" A stain of embarrassment was creeping up his neck, turning the tips of his ears pink. "I hate reporters."

The Fuhrer-elect shrugged. "They can be useful. Besides, you should get used to it – you're a hero and national celebrity now. Welcome to the club."

"Wasn't there some wise man who said, 'I wouldn't join any club that would have me?' " Ed asked dryly from behind the pillow. "Not to mention, look at the membership rolls – you're in it. Enough said."

"Think of it more as a draft," Roy advised, choosing to pointedly ignore the slight with dignity. "Like it or not, your days of relative privacy are over, unless you've decided to become a hermit. And if so, I must insist on you waiting until after the inauguration – Maes will _weep_ if anything goes wrong with his 'party plans', as he terms them, and I do believe you figure prominently in them. He's already promised the pleasure of your company at tomorrow's ball to the various diplomatic delegations. For some reason, the ambassador from Xing seems particularly eager to meet you – I hear he has an unwed sister."

Ed yanked the pillow off his face and glared at Roy, who was fighting to stay completely expressionless, although a twitch at one corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "Is it for Maes's sake or for yours, bastard? Need a little boost in your star power?"

"While I vehemently deny that last suggestion…would it be so bad for me to want you there?" Roy's voice had gentled towards the end, and he suddenly seemed very busy fussing over Winnie, who had managed to kick one of her little shoes off and was now engaged in trying to stand up in Roy's lap. Ed sat up slowly, stunned at the matter-of-fact sincerity of the admission.

"Is that an order?"

Roy looked up, smiling lightly, although the look in his eyes was anything but. "A…request. A choice."

Ed let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He took a moment to compose himself, willing his voice not to tremble as he forced out between suddenly stiff lips, "Someone has to be there to keep you from getting too swollen-headed."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes." It was almost a choked laugh, and Ed wondered how something so significant could be boiled down to one little word.

"Good." And just like that, the strained tension in the air seemed to dissipate. Ed found himself grinning idiotically, thought about suppressing it, and decided it didn't really matter, as the corners of Roy's eyes crinkled in affection. Winnie chose that moment to hiccup again, and then her lower lip began to quiver.

"Damn, I forgot," Ed mumbled, diving for the satchel. "She needs to be fed. Al told me there was some kind of baby food in here."

Roy eyed the battered bag sceptically as he distracted a teary Winnie with his pocket watch. "Have you had dinner yourself?"

"I've been kind of busy, in case you hadn't noticed," was the terse response as Ed retrieved a bottle and warmed it up with a brief touching of palms. Watching Ed – or Al, for that matter – performing alchemy, no matter how small the task, was always an aesthetic pleasure that could be likened to watching an athlete at his sport: efficient, understated, and with the grace that came from absolute confidence, the sort that stemmed from becoming so good at something that it was second-nature, like breathing, or running, or laughing. The young man tested a couple of drops on his wrist and nodded, satisfied. "See, I have this really annoying CO, he sort of insists on reports being turned in ASAP…" he trailed off, turning to look at Roy. "Wait, was that a dinner invitation?"

"It _was_," said Roy dryly. "But since you appear to be wholly dedicated to your work…."

"Could you _be_ any more cryptic?" Ed grumbled, although he ducked his head to hide a smile as a pleased rosy flush that Roy found quite fetching rose in his cheeks. "Fine - you can debrief me just as easily over the dinner table as you can across your desk. And you're paying." He reached for Winnie, who held her arms out obligingly as she eyed the bottle under her uncle's arm with immense satisfaction.

"Really," Roy murmured with interest, the suppressed amusement beneath the carefully neutral velvet of his voice making the young man glance up sharply. "I had always thought you favoured boxers, Edward."

The Flame Alchemist braced himself for the inevitable outburst, but much to his surprise, nothing happened. Instead the young man settled Winnie in the crook of his arm in dignified silence, handing the eager child the bottle and making sure she was comfortable. Still keeping his face completely expressionless, he picked up the satchel and turned towards the door, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Roy had retrieved the increasingly crumpled report from the coffee table. Roy obligingly opened the door for him and ushered him through with elaborate courtesy, and Ed stalked past him exuding a stony, self-righteous hauteur as he cuddled his niece protectively and refused to make eye contact. It wasn't until Roy had turned to lock his office door behind him that he heard Ed's distinctively throaty baritone purr something that would keep him watching a very specific part of Ed's anatomy very closely all the way to the restaurant as he tried to figure out if he was being toyed with…or if it was truth.

"And here _I_ thought _you_ had it all figured out, Roy – you can't really fit _anything_ under these pants, you know."

Ed tossed his golden head and stalked off down the corridor, Gatekeeper senses telling him Roy was trailing along behind in stunned silence. He smirked smugly to himself as he tucked Winnie's bib more securely under her chin. Fullmetal – 1, Flame – 0.

* * *

"This is nice," Winry smiled, as she propped her chin on her folded hands and looked playfully across and up through her lashes at her husband's tall figure across the white linen tablecloth. "It's hard to believe there was ever a war, isn't it?" Strains of music floated through the air from the string quartet in the corner, not loud enough to mask the pleasant hum of low conversations and laughter in the packed restaurant as couples, families and friends celebrated the return of peace and a new leader. There was an air of suppressed excitement in the air, and the Green Lion being the sort of restaurant it was, Winry was pretty sure the vast majority of patrons seated about her were all attending the inauguration ball the next night. As was she! For all that she preferred overalls to dresses and was happiest when in grease up to her elbows, was no longer a starry-eyed child and was a _mother_ to boot, there was still enough of the girl in her for the young woman to feel butterflies of excitement in her stomach when she contemplated the undeniable fact that she, Winry Rockbell Elric, was going to the ball with her very own prince, and she sighed in deep contentment. 

Al looked up from where he had been busily pleating the edge of the tablecloth in his lap. He had already rearranged the sugar cubes in the sugar bowl by colour and knocked over the little silver vase in the middle of the table three times. "Sure. Nice. No war. Yes." He was still finding it difficult to articulate to Winry what the war had been like, the devastation, the death and destruction…the line he had nearly crossed, and to be frank, the bizarre juxtaposition of this utterly civilized setting against his memories of mud-covered tents and blood-covered men with fear in their voices was giving him a headache. He suddenly understood why Ed and Roy had been so desperate to keep him on the other side of that line that they had crossed long ago…he was pretty certain that he would be finding it impossible to sit here listening to his wife tell him brightly about the spring planting and the latest local gossip in their small town otherwise. As it was, he felt as though he was moving through a distorted dream world, like watching reality reflected in a shimmering, stretchy soap bubble that was beautiful and sunlit and that you knew could burst and vanish at any time.

Havoc, of all people, had told him about this feeling once, trying to explain to the very young Major Elric why his enlisted men were coming to him trustingly, their commanding officer, for advice on how to deal with the world they had returned to. The lanky Captain could be surprisingly loquacious when the mood struck him. "It's like…it's like being a ghost, you know?" Havoc had said, toying with a cigarette butt in his long, nervous fingers. "Moving through a world without being a part of it, a world that you thought you wanted, that you fought to save, but a world where people don't understand what you've been through because they _can't_, because no one can unless they've actually been there. In time, for most people, it passes…you move on, make yourself a part of normal life again. For some of 'em though, it never does, and without people who understand, it's…it's hard."

"Did it pass for you?" Al had asked. "Does anything help?"

"Some. I'm a country-boy, I take things easy. Never wanted more than to serve my country, find a nice girl and have a family of my own. And now I've got two of those, and hopefully the third will come with time. But every now and then, I remember stuff. And I didn't even see the worst of it." Havoc ground his cigarette butt underfoot. "People like the General and the boss, they've seen and done more than I can even begin to imagine. I don't know how they bear up under it and keep on going. But they do, and that's why we follow them. Respect them. Love them."

"They have each other. And us."

"That they do," Havoc had agreed easily. "Makes it easier for them, in a lot of ways, because they understand each other like no one else can. Why else do you think Roy tomcatted around but never fell in love with any of 'em? With someone who doesn't understand - a civilian girlfriend, a wife, that sort of thing - it's often simpler to just let her be, especially if you care about her. They'll yammer on about wanting to know what happened, but they don't, really. And isn't that innocence what we fight to preserve?"

Al had nodded, thanked the man for his insight, and gone away to think about this new development. He hadn't really felt it then, though he had provided a sympathetic ear and counsel to more than a few distraught enlisteds and a couple of young Lieutenants, but now, sitting there at the table surrounded by chattering civilians who had likely as not seen very little of the war's fallout, he shook his head at his naiveté. Having Ed with him had shielded him from having to properly reengage with the real world and a normal lifestyle, as he had been able to simply fall back into the easy rhythm and understanding that was their bond, and the same had likely been true for Ed, although Al still had difficultly forgetting the desolate, lost look in his brother's eyes the night he had explained the meaning of his scar. Winry, on the other hand, was a part of the real world, and as such a jarring trigger for this strange feeling of unreality. Still, he was grateful to have her as his guide back to a life of peace. His brow creased as he wondered if his brother would be able to adapt to this brave new world he had helped to shape. But Ed had Roy. Surely together, they would be all right?

Winry frowned at the note of distraction in her husband's voice. Al had been suitably attentive at the beginning of dinner, cutting a dashing figure in his uniform with its tell-tale silver watch chain winking against his belt, and the admiring glances shot their way by other female diners had been simultaneously a source of irritation and intense pride for her. As the evening had worn on, however, Al had become increasingly distant, offering up monosyllabic replies to her chatty questions. This was not how a husband who had been separated from his wife for months was supposed to be acting, damn it! "Al," and the sharp tone in her voice made him look up quickly, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing. You were saying that everything seems the same again, right?" Al plastered an earnest look of attention on his face. He'd always been better at it than Ed. Unfortunately, he was trying it on the one of the few people who could read the Elric brothers like an open book. His wife snorted.

"Al…."

There were disadvantages to marrying someone this observant. "Everything's fine, Winry. Are you done? Shall I get the cheque?" A small hand reached across the table to tug on his arm imperiously as he raised his arm to summon the waiter.

"We're not going anywhere until you talk to me and explain why your mind's been anywhere but here for the last half-hour, Alphonse Elric."

Al stared across the table at his wife. Winry was clearly annoyed with him, the happy glow that had lit her face earlier fading as her cerulean eyes flashed warningly at him, and he felt a pang of guilt for running her evening. She was right; he hadn't been thinking about her, or the lovely dinner, or anything but…"I'm sorry, Winry. I was just worrying about Brother."

"As well you should be," Winry muttered, folding her arms and sitting back mutinously. "I still can't believe the nerve of that perverted…."

"Not like that, Winry," Al groaned, blushing slightly. "Besides…the General and Brother…they work, somehow. I don't know how to explain it. You just have to see them together…" and his mind flashed back to that awful, awful day when Ed had been taken by the Gate again. The look on Roy's face was something Al's mind shied away from remembering in too much detail, which was probably a good thing. And then when Ed had returned to them…Al closed his eyes, seeing the two figures silhouetted against the back of his eyelids, so close they seemed almost like one person, flame and ash and dirt whipping around them as they ignored everything but the feel of having the other actually there, alive, safe….He shook himself free of the memory and looked up to meet his wife's puzzled gaze. "It's not that. They love each other – they need each other – it'll be all right. You'll see."

Winry let that pass, although the curl of her lip said she wasn't entirely convinced. "Then what is it?"

Al shrugged. "I just…it's weird not being with him, that's all. We've always been together."

"The three of us," Winry nodded, a reminiscent smile playing about her lips. "Ever since we were little. Playing on the hill. Getting into trouble for picking a neighbour's apples without permission…" she trailed off again as Al looked uncomfortable. Her husband was the most truthful soul she knew, and even the slightest prevarication occasioned great discomfort – it was one of the things she loved most about him. In that sense, he was far more predictable than Ed, who was far better at making ends justify means. He'd had to be, given his role as the older brother, she supposed. "What?"

"I meant him and me, Winry." Al bit his lip, groping for a way to express himself. "You know. Like when we were searching for the Philosopher's Stone. And even recently. Almost like old times. Us against the world."

"Almost like old times," she echoed hollowly, feeling herself go numb as she struggled to understand. "When you'd leave me behind and go off on your missions, just the two of you, on some great adventure that you'd never bother to explain or tell me about." She could hear the venom in her voice, and it frightened her.

"Winry, please." Al struggled to keep the tone of his voice reasonable. "You know why we couldn't…."

"Oh, I know why you couldn't – but you wouldn't, either!" she hissed, trying to keep from drawing attention to herself, fighting back the tears burning her eyes. "And you're right, this _is_ just like old times – the two of you dropping everything and everyone else for each other…me, Granny…what about Winnie, will you ignore her for Ed too?" She stared down into her lap, her fingers twisting themselves into knots along with her napkin as she berated herself for overreacting, but she was powerless against the irrational rush of fear that paralyzed her, the dark secret she never told anyone about, the fear of being left again the way her parents had left her. She knew they hadn't meant to, knew they had been doing what they believed to be their solemn duty as doctors when they had left her with Granny Pinako and gone to war, but that didn't change the fact that they had never come back. Ed and Al had sworn they'd be there for her then, but that had been before their mother had died and they had meddled with forces beyond her understanding and had been forced to leave her too. The difference was that Al had come back to her, and had sworn never to leave her alone again, and had sealed that promise with a child. She was almost ashamed to admit that while she had missed Ed terribly, a small, selfish part of her had been glad not to have to compete with him for Al's attention anymore. But now he was back, and the little girl inside her trembled at the thought that the bond between the brothers would once again draw Al to Ed's side, forgetting his promise to stay with her.

"Hey," her husband said softly, getting up and coming around to kneel beside her chair, ignoring the surprised expressions of the other customers in the restaurant. "Winry. Look at me." A gentle hand closed over her knotted fists, stilling their nervous movement. "It's not like that. I love you and Winnie, you know that. I'd never leave you unless it was important, and I'll always come back. But you can't expect me to stop worrying about Ed just because I have you in my life now. It's a different sort of love there – we only had each other after we lost mama, and we've always looked out for each other. You and I only have this because he sacrificed himself for me four years ago, remember? I owe him so much…he gave me the chance to have you and Winnie. So don't make me choose between the two of you. Please."

Winry looked down, unable to meet Al's pellucid grey gaze, feeling like the worst kind of person there was at that moment. She took a shuddering deep breath, feeling the warmth of Al's hands around hers, callused strong hands that knew their own strength and held hers as lightly and carefully as if she were made of spun glass. "I just…I know. I know, Al. And you know I love Ed too. Just…please…promise me you'll remember that you're a father now. We're no longer the children we were…you have other responsibilities too, not just watching over Ed. Winnie needs you here…I need you here." And she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, resting her cheek briefly against his sandy hair in a gesture of apology and affection before pulling away to regard him with serious eyes. "Promise."

Al smiled, that serene expression that always made him look eerily wise beyond his years. "I promise, Winry. Besides," and a hint of mischief crept into his eyes as his smile widened a fraction, "I have the feeling that I'm not the companion Brother would choose to walk the next stage of his path in life with. He prefers brunettes, you see."

The patrons of the Green Lion were startled by a sudden outburst of hysterical giggles coming from a certain table, but no one dared to complain about it to the management. After all, the tall, broad-shouldered State Alchemist looked a formidable force in his uniform, even if he was currently sprawled against a table-leg gasping for air as his face turned purple from laughing. And the blue-eyed blonde woman lolling back in her chair appeared to have a wrench stuck in her garter.


	30. Ends And Means

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Warning: some mention of shounen-ai in this chapter. Brief and non-graphic but there. If such things offend you, please skip this chapter. And please, no flames. Or I'll sic Auric on you.

And again, in re: interrogations and assassinations. Patience is a virtue. That's all I'm gonna say.

And for the love of Auric, RoyEd, AlWinry, RizaJean, MaesGracia and little Winnie...please review.

_For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the chapter.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 30: Ends And Means_**

"What do you mean, 'No Children'?" Ed's hoarse rumble was dangerously calm, and had the maitre'd known Ed the way Roy did, he would have been quaking in his cheap shiny shoes right about then. Roy would normally have stepped in to head Fullmetal off at the pass, but he was still distracted by the last thing Ed had said to him; he still hadn't quite figured out if he was being toyed with, but it was true that those pants fit about his slender hips as thought they had been painted on….

"This is a _highly_ respectable establishment, sir. We count many esteemed persons among our clientele – why, even the Fuhrer-elect has been known to stop in from time to time. Children are disruptive to our patrons."

"Really," Ed observed dryly, shooting Roy a look which the older man shrugged off. Given that they'd simply picked the closest restaurant to HQ that looked halfway decent, but which Roy had already admitted to never having entered because, in the Flame Alchemist's own words, "I'm not a fan of any place that decorates with faux marble," he very much doubted the maitre'd's assertion. And right about now, he was regretting overruling Roy and insisting that they try the place just because he was _hungry_ and didn't want to have to go any further. He turned his attention back to the maitre'd, still keeping a lid on his temper as he tried to sound reasonable. "She's not doing anything. She's got better manners than most of your patrons, for crying out loud!" Ed shifted Winnie in his arms, and the little girl babbled softly and turned to bestow a sweet smile on the maitre'd. It wasn't working, however.

"I'm sorry, sir. I have to enforce the rules of the establishment as posted on that sign right there."

Ed gritted his teeth, because the man didn't sound in the least bit sorry. Roy was murmuring something about being terribly sorry for the fuss and they'd find an alternative somewhere else, but Ed had had it. He turned towards Roy and ordered curtly, "We're not leaving. Hold Winnie." The tone in Ed's voice brooked no opposition, and Roy took the little girl into his arms, settling her carefully against his hip, even as he raised a faintly amused brow at Ed, suspecting what was about to happen. The Fullmetal Alchemist turned back to the maitre'd and smiled, but it wasn't the sweet smile his niece had delivered earlier. Like a magician about to perform a magic trick, he lifted his hands high before the man's face, turning them to show first their backs, then their fronts, before spreading them wide. "See anything?"

A disdainful curl of the man's thinly moustached upper lip. "No."

A curt nod. "Good." And before the confused maitre'd could open his mouth, Ed brought his hands together, then casually brushed one of them against the metal sign, which disintegrated instantly in a crackle of blue alchemic energy, its glittering remains sifting gently to the floor. "Oh, how unfortunate. Must be termites or something. But that takes care of that rule. No sign, no rule to enforce. Now either seat us, or read in tomorrow's papers about how your restaurant turned away the Fullmetal Alchemist and his niece. Oh, and the Fuhrer-elect, of course," the blonde man added belatedly. "Bet _that_ will play very well with your clientele. Isn't that the gossip columnist for _The Central Times_ over there?" and the flash of fang was pure Auric.

The man stiffened and eyed Ed suspiciously, taking in the weather-stained cloak and muddy boots. "I really doubt you…" and then his eyes caught the glint of light on metal as Ed casually pushed his cloak back over his shoulders, revealing a silver watch chain…and the hilts of two daggers in his belt. Both of which looked as though they'd seen much use. The maitre'd looked up, eyes wide – and then going wider as Roy stifled a sigh inwardly and stepped forward to allow the man a better look at his uniform insignias. His eyes travelled very slowly from Roy's shoulder boards, back to Ed's watch chain, up again to the mirthless hard smile on the blonde man's face, and then drifted beyond Ed's shoulder through the glass of the door and outside, where he could just see a gleaming black car drawn up to the curb and at least two armed guards next to it. He swallowed. Winnie blinked coquettishly at him.

"Right this way sir."

* * *

"You really didn't have to do that, you know," Roy chided. They had been seated at the best table in short order after Ed's little display, and service had thus far been impeccable, with the restaurant even managing to produce a high-chair for Winnie despite the ostensible ban on children. She was behaving impeccably thus far, quietly amusing herself by doodling on a napkin with a fat crayon that Ed had hastily transmuted from one of the candles on the table. "Ghastly taste in interior décor aside, the food's actually turning out to be rather good, and I'd like to be able to return after this." 

"Give me a break, bastard," Ed snapped irritably, turning the stem of his wine glass around and around in his fingers. "You're going to be the damned Fuhrer, every restaurant in the country will be _begging_ for your patronage. They should be thanking me for the publicity – I count at least three reporters in this room, and those flashes that keep going off and impairing my vision aren't lightning bolts, you know." The set look on his face betrayed his unease with having his photograph taken, and Roy was suddenly reminded of Auric's predilection for remaining inconspicuous. Ironic, really, that a person with looks as striking as Ed's would be so uncomfortable in the spotlight, but then both Ed and Auric had always preferred to be feted for their deeds and abilities, not their looks. "So I had to take the maitre'd down a peg or two. Ends and means."

"Indeed. Interesting tactic," Roy observed neutrally. "Thought you hated reporters."

Golden eyes flicked up to meet his for a moment. "I do. But as _someone _pointed out to be not too long ago, they have their uses. For a place like this one, bad publicity would be the kiss of death. And what's the point of having a reputation if you don't use it to your advantage?" Ed's eyes flicked away again to sweep around the room in a definite search pattern. He had insisted that he be the one to take the seat facing the door, and when Roy had pointed out that he would really rather not be shot in the back, having only just escaped assassination, thank you very much, Ed had snorted and pointed out that he was more likely than Roy to recognize and react to any danger coming from the street. Roy had eventually capitulated and sat down, aware that he was only drawing more attention to their presence amongst the diners. Already the sound level of conversation in the room had dropped precipitously as the other patrons strained to try and overhear the conversation between the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists. A couple had even started to shift their chairs discreetly, but Roy had quietly removed his gloves from his jacket pocket and laid them ostentatiously on the table, looking about deliberately to ensure the gesture was noticed, resulting in a hurried retreat and earning him the ghost of a smile from the blonde alchemist. But then Ed had gone back into the broody shell he had retreated into after securing their table, and nothing seemed to be able to coax him out of it, not even his niece, who, Roy could see, already had her famous uncle firmly wrapped around her little finger.

"And they say I'm the manipulative one. Gatekeeper."

"I learned from the best. General." A tight-lipped answer.

Roy sighed. "Ed, if you're uncomfortable here, we don't have to stay."

A shrug. "It wouldn't make a difference. We'd be followed wherever we went." He hesitated, then added, "You do realize that our having dinner together will be all over the early morning edition of tomorrow's papers?"

"I wouldn't have invited you to dinner if I weren't already aware of that fact, Edward," Roy reassured him, slipping a hand across the table, palm up, an invitation that Ed slowly accepted after a moment of consideration. He could feel the tension in the younger man's grip, and he tried to calm him by running a gentle thumb over Ed's knuckles, still marvelling at the feel of flesh where there had once been cold metal. The Fullmetal Alchemist raised a challenging eyebrow.

"So that's all it is? You want all Amestris to know that the Fullmetal Alchemist supports you wholeheartedly, is that it?"

The Flame Alchemist smirked, not taking the bait, knowing that Ed didn't really mean what he was saying, but was merely seeking an affirmation that he had chosen wisely in allowing himself to be vulnerable. "Well, that is, of course, a fringe benefit. But I was merely thinking that it would be a nice way to welcome you back from a trying mission. And to let all of society begin to know that I, Roy Mustang, debonair man-about-town, Flame Alchemist, Fuhrer-elect and devastatingly handsome devil…am officially off the market." He continued to stroke his thumb gently across the back of Ed's hand, waiting for a response.

Ed's head snapped up, and the look in his eyes was unreadable. "You don't…I mean…you're not concerned about the repercussions of having this…_us_…whatever we are…be public knowledge? I mean, among Hughes and Hawkeye and the rest of them is one thing…."

Roy shook his head gently. "Ed. I'm Fuhrer. What might be considered a heinous sin in a young up-and-coming officer, is often viewed with greater indulgence when the person involved is ruler of the damned country," and he smiled in satisfaction as Ed started at hearing the swear word dropping from his lips. Roy almost never did, unless it was to make a point. "Plus war heroes who are also famous State Alchemists are often accorded a little more latitude. I believe the question is…are _you_ concerned about it? Do you think Al will object?"

"Hell no," and Ed laughed ruefully, "it was Al who made me…Auric…speak to you about it in the first place. In your tent. You remember?"

"How could I forget?" and the heat that rose in Roy's dark eyes made Ed's stomach turn over, but in a good way. "Pity about your braid though, I rather enjoyed doing that." Roy was being the perfect gentleman at the moment, and a small, dazed, but happy voice in Ed's head was squealing something about this technically being their first actual date, but when Roy looked at him that way, Ed had to fight not to chuck propriety out the nearest window and have his way with the man then and there. He was rather glad for the presence of his niece keeping him grounded.

"Idiot. It'll grow back, and anyway, it was really your fault, _Flame_ Alchemist," and the affection and relief in Ed's voice was as music to Roy's ears. "Can't believe you're so obsessed with my hair. What will you do when I'm old and grey?"

Roy pondered the question with mock-seriousness. "Well, I am a State Alchemist…and I seem to recall a mission in your younger days when you were forced to colour your hair…how do you think you'd like being a redhead?" That earned him a snort of amusement, and little Winnie giggled happily, glad that her uncle appeared to be cheering up, thanks to the nice man with the dark eyes. She proffered the crayon in the latter's direction, which he accepted with grave courtesy, and then handed the napkin to her uncle, who took it in some bemusement. An attentive waiter swooped down and exchanged it for a fresh napkin, refusing Ed's offer to restore the napkin to its original pristine condition. Roy's eyes met Ed's across the table, and in the quirk of Roy's brows and the curl of Ed's lip, the same cynical thought could be read: the napkin would doubtless turn up soon enough as a souvenir of the time the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists had graced the establishment with their presence. Winnie looked doubtfully about her, obviously seeking some new amusement, and Roy hastily handed her the crayon and his own napkin. With the short attention span of a child, she eagerly set back to work as though she had never held a crayon before. "Ah, the energy of youth," Roy observed, not unkindly.

"What's the matter, old man?" Ed seemed far more at ease now, and his mouth had finally relaxed into the laughing lines that had been one of the starkest differences between Auric and the Ed they had known. Roy rather thought he could get used to seeing that face across the table from his, especially with that smile and the warm look in those golden eyes – it was almost as if the photograph Hawkeye had given him all those years ago had suddenly come to life and stepped out of its frame to fulfil the promise implicit in that gaze. "Feeling your age surrounded by us young ones?"

"I do seem to do my fair share of baby-sitting," Roy retorted with some asperity. "Seeing as how I was assigned responsibility for a certain shrimp not long after being promoted to Colonel. Can't blame a man for developing a complex, can you? And for your information, thirty-four is hardly over the hill." But he felt a reluctant smile touching his lips as the young man before him glared just long enough to deliver the message that _he had heard that_, and then abruptly…laughed, and in a graceful gesture that likely owed more to Auric than to Ed, brought Roy's fingertips to his lips for a fleeting kiss that soothed away the sting.

Another waiter cleared their plates and offered coffee, which they eagerly accepted. Almost ceremoniously, they inhaled, then sipped. Ed was the first to break the comfortable silence with a dramatically sorrowful sigh. "Still not as good as mine."

"I'm not arguing," Roy admitted. "Someday you'll have to show me how you do it. But this will serve us for what we need to do."

"And that would be?"

Roy put his cup down carefully, the softest clink of porcelain against the saucer. "Mission report, Colonel."

Ed nodded and sat up a little straighter, unfazed by Roy's sudden change of mood. That was, after all, part of who they were.

* * *

"So it sounds like you and Al were able to stabilize the situation up north sufficiently that they should be able to hold out until we can get a few more civilian alchemists up there to help out. Good work." Roy made a couple of careful notes on Ed's increasingly dog-eared report as Ed watched, trying to read the Flame Alchemist's scribbles upside down. 

"How is it that a man who can draw the most graceful arrays can have such lousy penmanship?" the blonde alchemist asked, amused. "No wonder Hawkeye sometimes makes you re-do your paperwork."

Roy raised a daunting dark brow as a corner of his mouth quirked in a rueful expression caught between sheepishness and annoyance. "You try signing your name to what seems like a million reports a day and see how long your penmanship holds out." He neatened the pile of papers in front of him. "Besides, you don't exactly have the neatest handwriting in the world. Although this is a vast improvement from your younger days"

"Auric has a good hand," shrugged the blonde man. "I've adopted it. Comes easier now than my old style."

"Has?" Roy asked archly.

"Who do you think I am, Roy?" Ed rolled his eyes. "I'm not exactly the twelve-year-old kid who showed up and attacked the Fuhrer with a spear anymore, you know. There's obviously a good bit of Auric left in me. I think I'm finally starting to get stuff straight in my head though." He still hadn't told Roy – or Al, or anyone, for that matter – about his little epiphany the night of the assassination, although their little byplay in Roy's office had obviously told the Flame Alchemist that Ed had finally understood the rules of the new playing field they were on. Roy was still due a smack upside the head for being so ridiculously enigmatic about the whole thing, but they'd have time to work on that now, and again he had to fight off the stupid grin that threatened to split his face in two.

"Well that's certainly reassuring, for my own sense of physical self-preservation," Roy murmured dryly. "Spears and my hide are generally what I consider to be mutually exclusive elements."

Ed yawned widely. "Sure, fine, whatever. Are we done? I should get Winnie back to her parents soon, they must be done with diner by now. And you have a big day tomorrow, O Fuhrer-to-be. As do I, since I'm the one who has to make you Grand High Poobah." He really hoped Maes had gotten the sizing of his dress uniforms right. It had been bad enough when the Brigadier General had informed him that he would have to wear one, but when Al had pointed out, later on, that he would really need _two_, one for the inauguration ceremonies and another mess dress for the ball, it had not gone over terribly well. He had only cheered up slightly when Al had then pointed out that he would get to see Roy in mess dress as well, and that it was quite likely the Flame Alchemist would find the sight of his recalcitrant subordinate in uniform an unusual enough sight to rivet his attention. And so like a bride with her wedding gown, Ed had carefully taken steps to ensure Roy had not been reminded of the fact, stacking the deck carefully in favour of a positive surprise. Gatekeeper axiom: only take bets you know you'll win, and it never hurts to tip the odds in your favour. He really should start writing these things down, perhaps they could add them to the Officers' Handbook, common sense being something Ed had found rather _un_common in the military.

"There was just one other thing," Roy drawled in a deceptively mild tone of voice that instantly had Ed's nerves on edge. "Major Hawkeye turned in a report on the interrogation of Warrant Officer Hendricks. It was generally comprehensive, except for a noticeable lack of detail when it came to your part in it, as well as your arrest of General Hakuro – and his…unfortunate demise. She said that I should follow up on it with you as, and I quote, 'hearsay has no part in a report, sir.' Would you care to enlighten me? "

It really was remarkable, Roy thought, how mercurial Ed could be, and what an effect his moods could have on people. When Ed was in an expansive mood, for instance, he literally seemed to glow with sunlit intensity, his eyes and hair seeming to give off sparks of gold as he laughed, instantly enveloping those around him in warmth and lifting spirits seemingly through an act of will; when Ed was sullen – a favoured mood during his teenaged years, to be sure – that same glow was instantly shuttered, like the sun passing behind high clouds, brows drawing down above gold eyes that shuttered and darkened to dull amber as they watched their environs hostilely, a feral creature peering out from behind cover that left everyone unsettled; and when Ed was enraged, well…everyone hit the deck and headed for cover. Except Roy, and he suddenly wondered if that was what had drawn the young man to him. Right now though, Ed had opted for wariness; while not the sudden lockdown that "sullen" was, for instance, it was definitely a precipitous withdrawal, the soft look in his eyes vanishing to be replaced by a keen awareness that reminded Roy of a hawk hovering as it decided whether or not to alight on its falconer's arm…or to refuse the summons and take flight.

"My role was relatively minor," Ed said dismissively. "Armstrong did all the hard work with Hendricks. I just finished up the interrogation." No falsehood there; Gatekeeper axiom: never lie. Misdirect. Dissemble. And if all else fails, be economical with the truth. He would have to be on his toes though – this was the smirking-bastard-Colonel-I-invented-manipulation-and-charm he was attempting to evade. And then a more disquieting thought followed on the heels of the previous one: why _was_ he trying to keep this from Mustang? Ed pursed his lips in annoyance. Guess the bastard wasn't the only one who put up walls.

"Indeed? Subsequent interrogation of Warrant Officer Hendricks seemed to indicate that you were instrumental in securing his cooperation."

"What can I say, Mustang, I'm a friendly kind of guy. People like me. And I don't drone on about a family legacy all the time – maybe it was the sheer relief of not having to hear it anymore that did it." Ed's tone was studiously casual even as his eyes fixed innocently on Roy's face, and while it was true that a part of him was contentedly admiring the attractive way the candlelight was picking out the man's elegant bone structure and glowing pale skin, the rest of him was carefully observing the man's reactions, especially in his eyes. You could gain a considerable advantage that way, and Ed had no doubts about the calibre of opponent he was facing here, which meant that he was not about to forgo the chance to gain the upper hand. Mustang did have one unfair advantage though, Ed thought crossly; those bedroom eyes of his made it difficult to distinguish pupil from iris, which meant that one of the key signals he was trained to watch for was virtually impossible to see. It was an added complication that his treacherous mind kept getting distracted by the suggestive promise in those midnight blue depths.

Roy snorted delicately, although Ed thought he saw a momentary flicker in the man's eyes as Roy's damnably observant mind noted the use of his last name instead of his first. "That you most certainly are not, Fullmetal," and Ed's gaze sharpened at the use of his title even as he growled at the insult. "You are correct in that people _do_ like you. You can be pleasant enough when you _want_ to be, certainly; that was clear enough even as a child. You have the intelligence to discern what people wish to see or hear, and the looks and charm to give it to them without compromising your own agenda. You are commendably loyal to those you care for – Al, Winry, Winnie…" he trailed off, and the one name he had left of the list hung above them unspoken, although the banked embers that smouldered in Ed's wary gaze were a silent affirmation that he, too, belonged in the litany. With an effort, Roy refocused on his point. "But you are, by nature, more inclined to introversion. And a man trained like Hendricks is unlikely to cave simply from relief. So I ask again: what did you do?" _En garde_.

"Sure you're not describing yourself there, Flame Alchemist and Master of Manipulation?" _Parry._

"In this case, I fear the student may have surpassed the master," _Thrust._

Ed carefully lifted Winnie from her highchair as the little girl yawned sleepily. He wrapped a small blanket around her as he settled her in his lap, her head resting trustingly against his shoulder as she dozed off. "I told you, I merely finished up. As we are here. Shall we settle up with the restaurant so I can take her home?" _Counter-parry_.

"You would use her as a shield, Fullmetal?" _Counter-riposte._ Roy's voice was barely audible, but Ed heard every word clearly, as the darkening of his brow telegraphed. He had hit a nerve, the Flame Alchemist realized, as he watched the young man struggle with himself, eyes cloudy with indecision. If he so wished, the Fullmetal Alchemist could be gone in a flash of wings and claw, for you could never truly domesticate a hawk, only tame it to your hand, and Roy held his breath as he waited on the edge of his seat for Ed to choose. For the space of a breath everything took on that painful clarity that occurs in the moments that matter: the clinking of forks and hum of conversation about them, the brilliance of the crystal chandeliers that dotted the ceiling, the interplay of light and emotion across Ed's curiously set face and burning eyes. And then Ed swallowed hard and he knew the young man had chosen. _Touché. _

"Roy…please."

"Ed…trust me. As I trust you. With all that I am." It was as close to an open admission of love as Roy had ever come, and he could see Ed's eyes widen at that. "Don't try to go it alone."

"You did." Despite the flatness of the tone in which it was uttered, it was clearly an interrogative.

"I had Maes and Hawkeye to hold me up at first. And then, just as I was starting to waver…you," and the raw truth in Roy's voice made Ed's throat hurt as though he were the one laying himself out for the other to see, open and vulnerable and trusting. He hugged Winnie a little closer to him, breathing in her clean baby smell and feeling the warmth of her innocence swathed up carefully and separated from him by more than just layers of fabric. It reminded him, in an odd way, of leaning up against Al's suit of armour, through which he would always swear he could feel the warm purity of his brother's soul, though its exterior be cold hard metal. Roy's eyes followed the motion, and a sad smile ghosted lightly upon his lips. "We do it all for them, do we not? Such innocence must be cherished and preserved. But oftentimes…there is no such hope for those of us who choose to protect. It is saved…but not for us." He hesitated, then added in a low voice, "To obtain..."

"…something of equal value must be lost. We do what we do that they might be safe. Ends and means." Ed closed his eyes and was very still. For a moment, Roy thought he'd gone too far, and he nearly reached across the table and grabbed Ed's hand, wanting to hold the young man to him, beg him to stay. And then Ed sighed and opened his eyes, which were clear and decided. "You know, I am getting _so_ sick of that bloody law." He stood briskly, careful not to wake Winnie. "Fine. I won't do this in front of her. Al and Winry should be home by now – I'll drop her off. Meet you back at your place. General. You _do_ still keep the same house?"

"Of course. You did promise me a later," Roy replied lightly, resisting the urge to jump out of his chair and dance an undignified jig about the restaurant. "Wouldn't be much good if you had returned and couldn't find me now, would it?"

"Your lack of self-interest is, as always, one of your more notable attributes," Ed observed wryly. "See you in ten, O Fuhrer-mine. And don't forget the report," and he indicated the pile of papers with a shoulder. "I'd hate to see my painstaking penmanship on display as a souvenir in a restaurant like this one."

* * *

In one of those strange quirks of circumstance, the wind was howling around the eaves of Mustang's house much as it had four years ago as Ed trudged grudgingly towards the modest dwelling. He had dropped a sleeping Winnie off with her parents, politely refused an offer to stay the night at the inn, dodged a swat from a blushing Winry after telling them not to do anything he wouldn't do, especially with a _baby_ in the room, and teleported himself to the end of Mustang's street. It was in a very expensive part of Central where many of the rich and titled kept their city dwellings, and as such most of the houses were gargantuan, floridly embellished mansions that reminded the observer that money and taste did not necessarily go hand-in-hand. Mustang's house stood out for its relatively small size and tastefully minimalist exterior, and from what Ed could remember of the interior, his preferences ran towards comfort and understated luxury. He wondered what the neighbors thought of that. Then again, he doubted any of them would be likely to venture an opinion on the subject, knowing who their bachelor neighbor was. Roy wasn't exactly someone who blended in, even if the large black military cars that pulled up to the curb on a daily basis weren't enough of a giveaway. Or the guards posted at the front gate, who nodded politely to him. Ed was a little perturbed at the cavalier attitude the guards took towards visitors – he had expected to be stopped and at least asked his business - but the small flicker of recognition in their eyes quickly told him that Roy had probably forewarned them to expect him. Well, that and his face was only on the front page of every other newspaper these days, and given the way the press enjoyed using the phrases, "Flame and Fullmetal," "Flame vs. Fullmetal," "Flame or Fullmetal," it was quite likely that the guards thought Ed spent every waking hour with the man. In a purely platonic, good subordinate watching out for his CO sense, of course. 

The door looked innocuous enough. Oak, probably, a well-polished brass knocker in the center of it, the few designs incised on its surface worn smooth from much use. Ed thought about by-passing the door entirely, just to give the man a bit of a shock, but decided that since he'd already unwittingly played up the symbolism of this actions by walking the length of Mustang's street instead of teleporting a little closer, he might as well take it the whole way, although as a general rule, sappy stuff gave him hives. Ostentatiously ignoring the door-knocker, he grinned, lifted his fist and pounded on the door, the wind whipping his hair about his face, and didn't stop until the door swung open to reveal Roy rolling his eyes, a knowing smirk on his lips and a flame at his fingertips. "Fullmetal."

Damn the man for looking so good. Oh what the hell. Four years was long enough. And they'd already gotten the first date out of the way.

And Ed stepped over the threshold, kicked the door shut, looked up determinedly – and kissed him straight on, with all the ardour of his sixteen-year-old self and all the experience of a twenty-year-old Gatekeeper, using teeth and lips and tongue to nip and nibble and suck and lick and _taste_, one hand firmly behind the man's head and the other slipping up the back of Roy's shirt as the Fullmetal Alchemist warred with the Flame for the upper hand in this dance until they were forced to break apart for air. The sensitive skin in the small of Ed's back burned where Roy's rough gloves had gripped him, and he kept his eyes fixed on Roy's as he slowly reached up and loosened the ribbon holding back his hair, tossing his head to shake out the golden locks that tumbled free about his shoulders. Roy's chest heaved, his lips bruised and parted slightly and his eyes dark with desire, though he somehow managed to find the control to keep his voice lightly mocking as he stripped off his gloves and ran his fingers possessively through Ed's hair, luxuriating in the familiar silken warmth as he pulled the young man to him again. "Ah. Debriefing later then?"

"Told you already, bastard," came the husky growl in his ear as they stumbled towards Roy's bedroom leaving a trail of clothing behind them on the floor. "Nothing comes between me and…"

The rest of that sentence was lost in a moan from the blonde as Roy discovered, much to his immense gratification, that Ed really hadn't been lying about that particular issue.

* * *

_Ends and Means: contraction of the idiom, "The ends justify the means." Used when the actions we take are considered acceptable because of the specific desired end results._


	31. No More Secrets

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

I did say it would eventually be RoyEd. This is part of eventually. I just find the nuances of their relationship interesting, and I'm indulging myself because…well, just because I can since this is my fic. And I'm stressed. And when I'm stressed, I write stuff that makes me feel less stressed. This is by way of saying that this chapter might seem somewhat tangential, so please don't write to tell me that; it only annoys me and irritates Auric. Tangents…circles…. Humour me; I needed a RoyEd fix. We're back on track next chapter. And there'll be bits of this that come back again later anyway. Brownie points for anyone who can point out RoyEd allusions to previous chapters. And…I'm going to stop babbling now and find some coffee.

In re: interrogations and assassinations. Patience is a virtue. That's all I'm gonna say. Consider it payback for all the oh-my-god -you-killed-Ed grief I got back in Chapter 18.

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**_Chapter 31: No More Secrets_**

The watery moonlight streaming in the window gave everything a mysterious, silvery cast, lending a fragile, ethereal mystery to the objects in the room. It skated luminously over the two bodies lying tangled amidst twisted sheets on the bed, one of which was peacefully slumbering, an arm possessively thrown over its companion. The other, however, was not.

Edward Elric lay wide awake, staring at the patterns the moonlight was drawing on the ceiling. It was always odd to wake up in unfamiliar surroundings, although given his iterant lifestyle, that was more the rule than the exception, he thought wryly. The shadows that stretched about the room were different, the texture of the linens against bare skin, the sounds of the night, one of which was currently rumbling softly in his ear. As if reading his thoughts, Roy shifted slightly, pulling Ed closer to him as he nosed aside the matted fall of golden hair and dropped a gentle kiss on Ed's nape, and the blonde smiled an unseen smile in the darkness. He thought that he could get used to this, given the chance. "Sleep, old man. You'll need it for tomorrow…or today, really, given that it's about two in the morning. You'll be up well past your bedtime tonight, if I know balls."

A sleepy purr. "Mmm…do you promise?"

"Mind out of the gutter, pervert," whispered Ed, stifling a laugh. "Besides, who says I'm coming home with you tonight? They say the crème de la crème of society will be there tonight, and I have it on the authority of at least five newspapers that I'm considered quite a catch."

He felt, rather than heard, a jealous growl into his hair, a low rumble that ran quicksilver fingers up and down his spine. "Then we're not getting out of this bed."

"I don't think Hawkeye would agree to that. Can't have the guest of honour missing from his own party, can we now?" Ed pushed against Roy's encircling arm pointedly. "I, for one, do not want to be on the receiving end of a bullet from her gun."

"Don't care," came a peevish mutter. "Not losin' you again," and the grip tightened determinedly. "'sides…she's got other things to worry about. Like introducin' Jean to her father."

Ed wriggled around to face Roy, tucking an arm under his head. "Why, do you think he won't approve of Havoc? He's a good guy, you know, and, come to think of it, handsome in a rakish sort of way, faithful as a dog…." He watched in amusement as Roy's eyes snapped open, although in the man's groggy state, his eyes remained seductively half-lidded even as his gaze sharpened and his mouth opened to deliver a snide retort, which Ed deftly cut off by throwing a leg over the man's hip as he purred, "Good thing I'm a cat person myself, hmm?"

"Ed…." _You'll be gone when I wake up. Can't deal with that again._

"Stop worrying, bastard," and an affectionate smile tugged at the corners of Ed's mouth. _No, I won't. _Who knew the prideful Flame Alchemist could be this insecure once you got his guard down? Although it was an incredibly gratifying attitude to be the object of. "You asked, I chose. You're stuck with me now, so get over it. Besides, we promised we'd come home when it was all over, remember? And a Gatekeeper always keeps his word." He nestled a little closer, enjoying the contrast between the warmth of Roy's body and the coolness of the night air against his skin, running his fingers lightly down the man's flank and purring in satisfaction as he felt the tension slowly ebbing from Roy's body.

"I remember." A rich laugh, warm and content, and heard all too infrequently. Although there was still the faintest hint of a damnable doubt, a fear that all this might be taken away again. That was going to change, even if Ed had to beat it into the man's thick skull, although he was quite confident in his ability to convince Roy without needing to resort to violence. A feline grin crept onto the blonde's face as he began to contemplate the arsenal of persuasive techniques he had at his fingertips.

Roy glanced suspiciously down at the young man curled around him, and caught the tail end of a mischievous smirk that dissolved into a look of pure innocence as soon as Ed realized he was being watched. The blonde alchemist pillowed his head on Roy's shoulder, and the older man had to fight off a grin at the way his personal space was being unconcernedly invaded. Despite the young man's earlier hesitance, once Edward Elric had made his mind up about something, he was nothing if not decided. Move forward, never back. And if last night was anything to go by, Auric had had some very…varied experiences over the last four years. Ed blinked up at him, his face so close that Roy could feel long lashes brush against his cheek. "So. Why would you think Hawkeye would be worried about Jean meeting her father?"

A rueful smile tugged at the corners of Roy's mouth as he thought about his faithful aide-de-camp. "Didn't you know? Hawkeye's family is low nobility – her father is a Baron; he and his wife will be in attendance tomorrow. I've met him before, at a military function many years ago - he can be…cantankerous and he will not take kindly to the news that his daughter is being courted by a country-boy, charming through Jean can be."

"There's nothing wrong with being from the country," Ed said defensively. While Auric had been, as most Gatekeepers were, urbane and at home in both fine and rustic environs, Ed still much preferred the simplicity of the country, although having Auric's experiences to lean on would certainly help with tomorrow's – no wait, make that today's - diplomatic festivities. Especially with the dancing.

"Of course there isn't," drawled Roy. "If anything, ordinary people from the countryside are often a good deal more decent than the so-called sophisticates of the cities. But the Baron is unlikely to see it that way. He was against Riza joining the military in the first place – he had hoped for her to make a good match early on, preferably with a highborn family in order to elevate their standing." His mouth twisted as if he'd just bitten into a sour apple. "One has to question the intelligence of a man who believes that the circumstances of your birth are more important that what you do after it."

"Where were you born?" asked Ed curiously. There had been a curious hint of bitterness in the man's tone that suggested some personal enmity towards the Baron – or perhaps towards the nobility in general, which was strange since Ed had always assumed, from Mustang's manners and carriage, that the man was in some way related to the nobility. But the man never talked about his family, and fair was fair, after all – Roy knew everything about the Elrics. "And what about your family? Are they going to be in attendance too?" The blonde alchemist realized, belatedly, that his curious question had come out a little too sharply, and he tried to soften the thrust with an apologetic snuggle. "You're going to be Fuhrer tomorrow, after all. It's a pretty big deal."

Roy let out an abrupt bark of harsh laughter. "My rise to Fuhrer is as the bitter taste of ashes in my father's mouth. It is a form of revenge upon him."

Ed frowned. "I don't understand."

"Edward…my father was not married to my mother." A simple statement of fact. Ed blinked. He had to have heard wrong.

"I'm sorry, I thought you just said…."

"I did." Still in that perfectly neutral tone of voice.

The blonde alchemist considered this new piece of information. He recognized the hidden tension in Roy's voice for what it was – fear. Of pity, of rejection, although why the man would even think that given Ed's own dubious family history was beyond the younger man. "Oh."

A raised eyebrow and a sidelong glance. "Oh?"

"Oh," Ed repeated more firmly. "You know, an expression of acknowledgement?" The other brow went up, and Ed sighed. "What, you expected sympathy? Who _cares_ if they were married or not? I'm not even sure mine were. But mama was still mama, and while he was around, that asshole was papa. A signed piece of paper changes nothing. It's not like a child gets to choose its parents, you know."

"At least yours gave you his name." Roy's mouth was a thin line as he relived what had to be a very old hurt.

"What was his name?"

Roy snorted. "Ironically enough, Maximillian St. Just."

"And you're depressed about it?" Ed shuddered theatrically. "Roy St. Just. Colonel St. Just. Terrible. Believe you me, I would _never_ have gone to Central to find you if that had been the name on your calling card. It screams inbreeding and snobbery, and you're doing _just_ fine on the latter on your own!" He paused and added snidely, "No pun intended, of course."

"Of course," Roy agreed dryly, although he seemed to be relaxing as he absorbed the matter-of-fact way that Ed was taking in the revelation, which had been the effect the younger man was striving for. He swallowed the guilt he was feeling over all the times he'd called the man a bastard to his face; the last thing Roy needed now was a lame apology, or worse still, pity.

"So…what did you mean when you said that becoming Fuhrer was a form of revenge on him?"

The Flame Alchemist shrugged noncommittally. "It's a long story."

Ed sighed. Tight-lipped idiot. "I'm not going anywhere, Roy. Trust me. Now talk or I'll beat it out of you," and that last earned him a surprised laugh, as he had hoped. "You're just lucky I don't have automail anymore. But I can still kick your ass in any Battle Assessment, so don't push it."

"Indeed," his lover observed wryly. "Well, then." He hesitated, as if casting about for a starting point, then sighed and wrapped an arm more firmly around Ed.

"My father – if he deserves the term – is a member of the high nobility. Grand Duke Maximillian St. Just. My mother was a maid in his household. She was herself, illegitimate – the product of a lowly Amestrian soldier and a woman of Xing," and at that Ed's eyes flicked up to Roy's dark hair and received a nod. Well, that explained the exotic looks. "But her father did leave her a name – Harriet Mustang. Despite her humble beginnings, she was a hard worker and a pretty enough little thing that she was able to obtain a position at my father's manse in the country. A pretty face can do more harm than good under circumstances like those, and soon enough I was born. To do him justice," and Roy's tone suggested he would really rather not, "he did allow my mother to name and keep me, and he did keep her on as a maid, which meant I grew up in the servants' quarters, which were quite extensive, as one would expect of the seat of a Grand Duke."

"Is it still standing?"

"Sadly, yes, according to the latest damage reports. For all intents and purposes though, it's in a state to be condemned. And as the Grand Duke is land-rich but cash-poor, I very much doubt he will have the financial resources to have its repair seen to." Roy shrugged. "Anyhow, when I was old enough to be in school, my father thought it would be a charity to allow his bastard son to accompany his two legitimate heirs in their classes. I was essentially their whipping boy, beaten if the other two fell behind in their lessons or were unruly." A mirthless smile. "Not all my scars are from the military."

Ed stared in horror. He'd heard that the rich did that, but he'd never quite believed that a practice so cruel still existed – not to mention, he was having difficulty envisioning the Flame Alchemist as anyone's whipping boy. The flat look in Roy's eyes said it all, however. "That's…that's just…." _Barbarous_, his mind whispered furiously. If he ever got his hands on Maximillian St. Just….

"Indeed," and it was Roy holding him close, comforting him. "It was…unpleasant. But it did mean I was given access to deportment classes, taught to ride, to dance, to use the right silverware – and most importantly, allowed to learn. And I was an outstanding student. Even the tutor admitted as much. It was he who first introduced me to alchemy when he realized my potential – he was a very talented alchemist."

The odd note in Roy's voice made Ed frown. "What was his name?"

Roy laced his fingers through Ed's as if needing reassurance – or perhaps, Ed suddenly realized, to reassure. "Hohenheim Elric."

Ed froze. So that was how Mustang had known his father – and why he had come to Risembool in search of him after receiving Ed and Al's letters asking for information on their father. Numbly, "Oh." He seemed to be saying that a lot of late. "Oh. Um. Small world, I guess. That must have been before he met mama and had us."

"Given that I was about eight or nine at the time, yes," Roy murmured. He hesitated a moment, then added, "Ed, I know you hate him, but…he was my first teacher. And he did set me on the path to learning, for which I was immensely grateful under the circumstances."

"Don't. Just don't." Ed took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not a child anymore. I'm never going to forgive him for leaving us, and for what he did to mama. But I can remember a time when we were a family, and we were happy. He would carry me on his shoulders…" and he had to stop, because his throat was hurting, and he cursed himself for being a maudlin fool. Roy waited patiently, not saying anything, and Ed leaned gratefully into his chest, waiting for the wave of mixed emotions to pass. "But if you hadn't known him, you would never have come to find us…and I would never have gotten Al's body back…and we wouldn't be here." He nuzzled into the crook of Roy's neck, breathing in the clean scent of the man before tilting his head up to press a kiss to the corner of Roy's jaw. "So while I can't forgive him…I am glad that you met him. Although," and Ed's glare was now one of mock disgust, "I had better not be some kind of sick replacement for him in your affections."

Roy smiled and claimed a quick kiss. "You are no one's replacement, Edward Elric. You're too unique to be anyone but yourself."

"Damned straight," Ed snorted grumpily. "Go on. But skip the bits with him in it."

"It was obvious that I was outpacing my half-brothers at their lessons, and that annoyed my older half-brother, Neville, intensely - he eventually had my father fire Hohenheim and ban me from lessons with the new tutor. Pandora's Box had been opened, however, and I would steal books from the library to read, especially on Alchemy. My younger half-brother, Reginald, was my ally in this. I don't know how my father was able to produce two such different sons, but where Neville was a small-minded, beetle-browed idiot, Reggie was kind, and sweet, and honourable. Very much like Alphonse, actually."

"I hope that doesn't make me Neville," Ed essayed, and was rewarded with a very small smile, the sort Roy reserved for unguarded moments of affection.

"To make a long story short, as soon as I was able, I ran away. Reggie gave me all the money he had on him, which tided me over until I joined up; the military paid for the rest of my schooling as soon as they realized how…useful…my particular brand of alchemy could be to them. My mother lived long enough to see me commissioned – she was so proud," and Roy's voice had grown wistful as he looked into a past Ed could not see. "She knew that I had bought my freedom from the St. Justs. Despite their position, the family has never been heavily involved in the military and politics, you see – as a State Alchemist and commissioned officer, I was – and am – untouchable by them."

Ed nodded thoughtfully. That did explain a great deal: why Roy had joined up so young, his languid mannerisms and ease in society, his respect for the bond between the Elric brothers, his aloofness and general avoidance of deep intimacy – well, until the day a certain blonde, brash alchemist had stomped into his house and heart. "Do you still keep in touch with Reggie?" It sounded as though Roy had had at least one decent relative, and he couldn't even begin to imagine not keeping in touch with Alphonse. And then the rest of his brain caught up with him.

"_You have a younger brother?"_

"_Had."_

"Oh…" Ed looked up at Roy, who was staring straight ahead, jaw set, eyes wide and unseeing.

"You would have liked him," Roy said finally, almost conversationally. "He was a scholar of sorts, as well, not alchemy, but medicine. When the Ishbal Rebellion began, he volunteered to go to the front to help – my father was furious at the thought of one of his sons sullying his hands in that manner, but Reggie always got his own way in that quiet, stubborn fashion of his. I'd managed to stay in touch intermittently, although I suspect our father had many of my letters to him intercepted and burned. But Reggie knew I was a State Alchemist, knew I was being sent there, and got himself assigned to my unit. And for a time, we were as happy as one can be in the middle of a war, because we had each other," and Ed nodded at that, understanding. "And then…the incident with the Rockbells…."

Winry's parents. They had been doctors. Reggie had been a doctor. "No…" Ed breathed.

"When I got back to my unit, I tried to find him…to tell him…I don't know, Ed, maybe I wanted him to absolve me in some warped way," Roy was shaking now, his grip on Ed almost painful, but the young man didn't flinch, squeezing back, letting Roy know that he was still there, that he wasn't running away from any of this, damn it. "But he…when I got back…they told me…_he_ told me, that bastard Basque Grand, said it had been orders. Said Reggie was guilty of treason and deserved to die like all the rest of them…."

"They murdered him too," Ed choked.

There were no tears in Roy's eyes, as though he'd already shed them all, leaving behind nothing but a memory of pain. "At first I thought it was my fault. That someone was punishing me for having sinned – that it was my fault he'd died. An equivalent exchange. I almost tried human transmutation to bring him back, you know."

"What stopped you?" Ed could barely get the words out past the lump in his throat.

"Maes. He found me ready to do something stupid, hit me, yelled at me, pointed out that Reggie would never have countenanced such a thing. He was right, of course," and Roy managed a faint smile. "I came to see it his way, after he knocked me out with the butt of his gun and left me to sleep it off. And after that I realized what I had to do to stop any of it from happening again."

"Become Fuhrer."

"Yes." A cold, hard assertion, almost defensive.

Ed looked pensively at his lover. He could feel Roy tensing up again and withdrawing, trying to put up a wall between them as though he feared what Ed might say. The blonde alchemist frowned at that, then leaned over and kissed Roy chastely on the forehead. "Love you."

Roy's brows lifted in surprise as he rolled over onto his side to face Ed. "What?"

Ed shrugged. "You needed to hear that. Didn't you?"

The barest of hesitations. "Not unless you meant it."

"Paranoid bastard," but there was no sting in Ed's gruff tones. "Quit fishing. I hate repeating myself." He turned his back on Roy and spooned up to him, reaching for the man's arm and tugging it forward and around himself, allowing actions to speak where words could not. "So…what about the rest of your family? Should I be worried about having to meet them? Most of society will be at the ball tonight after all."

Roy decided he should stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and wrapped himself a little more securely around Ed, eliciting a contented purr. "Neville died in an unfortunate accident some years back. Choked on a meatball at a particularly boring soiree," and he could feel Ed's snort of amusement in his chest. "My father will be there, yes, but as he's never officially acknowledged me, I feel obligated to repay the courtesy."

"Wait – Neville's dead? Doesn't that make you…."

"The laws of Amestris state that only legitimate children may inherit, Edward," Roy said calmly. "I have no need for his money, but that's neither here nor there – I would not be permitted to inherit, in any case. Which means that as he is now heirless, his estate will revert to the state upon his death, to be administered by the military. Which would be me. All of society knows of our relationship. It is the ultimate humiliation for him, that his own bastard son should wind up master of his estate nonetheless."

Ed half-turned in Roy's embrace, just enough to see the curl of the man's lips as he smiled lazily, like a cat that had gotten into the cream. "Remind me not to get on your bad side. You take revenge being best served cold to a whole new level."

"There are other things I prefer hot."

"Not going there."

"Think you already did."

"Pervert." A half-amused grumble.

"Prude." A mocking taunt.

"Is that a challenge, old man?"

"Afraid of a rematch, youngling?"

"Who are you calling…" Ed began to growl as he pushed himself up from the bed, then broke off as Roy dissolved into laughter. He huffed disgruntledly. "Bastard." But his glare softened as Roy continued to laugh helplessly, the dark-haired alchemist reaching a long arm up to pull him back down. "Stop laughing, damn it."

With great effort, the Flame Alchemist muffled his remaining chuckles as he buried his face in Ed's nape. The blonde could feel Roy's lips twitching as he pointedly ignored the man. "Well," Roy managed to gasp out finally. "Now that I've bared all my secrets, I think I'm due a little equivalent exchange. We never did finish going over the details of your interrogation of Hendricks."

Ed blinked in disbelief as he sat up again and pushed the man away to look at him. Roy's bantering tone had not changed, but the look in his eyes said he was serious. "Now? It's three in the morning, in case you hadn't noticed."

"We're both awake - no time like the present. Unless you've got something to hide…Gatekeeper?" and it was as though the past few hours had fallen away and they were standing in the middle of the street again, two strangers to each other staring across a great divide, one at the love he thought he had lost, the other at the love he did not know. Their gazes met and warred for dominance in a silent battle that ended when they both looked away simultaneously.

Ed finally broke the silence. "Everyone has something to hide."

"Not us. Not here. Not with each other," and the abrupt rawness of Roy's insistence rubbed painfully against Ed's conscience like sandpaper. _Trust me. As I trust you. With all that I am._ There was no other answer, really, and he could see that Roy knew it too.

The Gatekeeper drew his legs up gracefully beneath him and sat up a little straighter, the angle of the moonlight playing across his face leaving it half in shadow. "Just remember that this was your choice, Flame Alchemist."

Roy's eyes were dark, yet strangely luminous. "Would you have it any other way?"

And Ed threw his head back and laughed for the joy of having someone willing to choose to know you, all that you were and all that you would be, the good and the bad.


	32. But Not For Us

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

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**_Chapter 32: But Not For Us_**

"Fear is a powerful motivator." Izzy stared morosely into the dying embers of the small fire they had built for warmth, her dark, ropey locks twisted up carelessly and pinned aside with a long quill that ended in a suspiciously sharp tip. Closer examination of the translucent hair ornament revealed that the end of the quill had been sealed with a bit of wax that prevented the pale pink liquid in the shaft of the quill from spilling out. On any other woman, merely decorative; on Izzy, most likely a weapon of some kind. "Humans are born with only two fears, did you know that? The fear of heights and the fear of loud noises. Everything else is learned. Even the fear of death." She shot the young blonde Gatekeeper a sidelong glare. "In exchange for our memories, our pasts, for who we were, Gatekeepers receive a blessing of sorts – we have all our fears unlearned for us. It is incumbent upon us not to relearn bad habits."

Auric nodded silently, his golden eyes glittering in the firelight. He had learnt very quickly that when Izzy fell into one of these pedantic moods, it was best to shut up and listen, or risk certain bodily harm. And Izzy had been a Gatekeeper for a long while – her insights were generally pithy, practical, and aimed at keeping you alive and useful to the Guild for as long as possible. Beside him Alp sprawled lazily on his stomach, toying with his amber beads as he watched the older female Gatekeeper lecture their new addition.

"One thing humans learn to fear very quickly is the unknown. The dark. Humans rely far more than they should on their sense of sight," and her sniff conveyed exactly what she thought of _that_. "A Gatekeeper should be able to operate even if blinded, though hearing and touch and smell – and feel. Same principle as teleportation or opening a Gate – it's all about balance. Always be _aware_ of the energy currents around you. If you're careless, you're dead, and probably deserve to be," and without warning, she kicked over the glowing remains of the fire, plunging them into a shower of fiery sparks – and then darkness. A glint of starlight outlined the star of another sort that had suddenly appeared in her hand, and she flicked it with sure aim straight for Auric's head. Alp tensed as the eddying energy currents around him shifted, ready to snatch the weapon out of the air to protect Auric if necessary, but the novice Gatekeeper was already in motion. He trapped the projectile in the dense folds of his cloak with one arm, whirling gracefully in a deceptively unhurried motion even as the other arm whipped up underhand to let fly one of his own. Izzy moved her head fractionally to the side in the nick of time, and the throwing star flew by her ear and embedded itself in a hapless sapling. She stared through the shadowy dark at her newest protégé as her hair came uncoiled about her shoulders, the sharp edge of the weapon having sliced neatly through some of her locks, and he met her gaze imperturbably with his own aureate stare, rather like that of a cat on the hunt.

"Good," she said at last. "Now understand that there are many forms of fear, and that the _psychological_ advantage you possess far outweighs any crude _physical_ display of prowess. Fear is a weapon. Fear is a tool. Fear is leverage. Some say it is wrong to use it to manipulate another." Izzy smiled mirthlessly. "But we are Gatekeepers. The rules of others do not necessarily apply to us. And needs must where the devil drives."

* * *

Warrant Officer Hendricks slumped forward uncomfortably, wondering how long he had been in this cramped, airless room with the incredibly annoying Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong. He was almost afraid that the pink sparkles coming off the man might be seared permanently into his retinas if the interrogation went on for much longer, and spasms of pain racked his back as muscles protested at the cramped, unnatural position they were held in thanks to the manacles that bound his hands beneath the seat of the rickety chair. The State Alchemist sighed theatrically and leaned a little closer so that his small blue eyes, buried as they were in the pink folds of his face and adorned by the little yellow curl that hung perfectly centred between them, seemed to loom like large blue marbles floating before the prisoner's face.

"It wounds me to see you this way, it truly does. The honour code of the Armstrongs as transmitted down though the generations has always prescribed mercy upon thine enem…."

"Stuff it!" Hendricks spat, his pale eyes bloodshot and hunted. His teeth were bared like those of a cornered animal. "No more damned stories about your stuffed-shirt family! I don't give a rat's ass what your bloody code says. You're not getting anything else out of me, so why don't you just go work on some legendary Armstrong family technique for getting lost?"

Armstrong drew himself up to his full height, walrus moustache quivering vigorously, although it was hard to tell if it was with rage or hurt. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a soft tap at the door. Hendricks watched in vague uncaring surprise as the State Alchemist answered the summons, nodded at something the warrant officer couldn't quite hear, and then slipped out, shutting the door with a soft click that somehow had an air of finality about it. Probably gone for a drink or a piss, thought the man sourly, these soft types never could endure much hardship. He shifted about, rolling his head on his shoulders, wiggling his fingers, trying to get some blood into them, but it was hopeless and he soon sagged back into the curled up position he had been in for the past few hours. It had to be hours. Surely not days yet? You couldn't tell in this windowless room, lit as it was only by a bare yellow bulb dangling precariously from an exposed wire yanked partially from the ceiling. He wondered if the others really had talked. Wondered about whether General Hakuro was all right or if Mustang had already moved to neutralize the threat to his power. Wondered whether the General was even sparing a thought for the lowly warrant officer who had failed him so spectacularly, and a deep wave of shame washed over him.

Stop it. Stop it, you fool, that's what they want. They're leaving you in here to let you stew, let you hear the little voices of self-doubt in your mind. You've been trained better than this, and he shook his head sharply, wincing as strained shoulder muscles whimpered, yet welcoming the pain as a distraction from the nagging fear in his mind. He would show them. He would…wait, what was that sound? A strange buzz hovering on the fringes of audibility – it seemed to be coming from the light bulb in the ceiling, and he squinted up at it, puzzled. The glow from it seemed to be fading, and he could just make out the coiled filament inside the glass, now a burning dull orange. It sparked blindingly for a moment, then suddenly fizzled out with a snap and a tinkling of broken glass, leaving him in darkness, eyes wide. He could have sworn that in the instant before it had burned out, he had seen a dark, sinuous shape coiling about within and around the bulb. Almost like a snake, and he loathed the creatures, had ever since that one posting to Ishbal, where the reptiles were both plentiful and poisonous. A good friend of his had died, stepping on one of them by accident, and it was enough to make a man paranoid about putting on his boots in the morning in case one of the serpents had taken up residence in the dark warmth. It had become a bit of an obsession with him, snakes and other scaly things, enough for the military docs to have put a note in his file about it. Gods, he hated snakes!

Get a grip, he told himself firmly. Your eyes are tired, you're seeing things. Why would there be a snake in the light bulb? But that same fearful little voice whispered that it could have slithered down the wire from the ceiling, and a cold sweat prickled the back of his neck. Get a grip, damn it! But it was as though the dam of reason had finally cracked and an inexorable force was twisting at his bowels even as he struggled to regain a semblance of calm, tugging him off balance, making the hairs on his skin stand up.

A pleasantly low voice chuckled in the darkness. "Indeed, Warrant Officer Hendricks. Get a grip. Special Operations taught you better than that, didn't they?"

"Who's there?" he gasped, eyes straining to make out a shape in the darkness, but seeing nothing. Armstrong had left him alone in the room, and there was only one door, and he hadn't heard it open, and even if it had, he would have seen it, wouldn't he? Darkness was rarely absolute; what most people considered darkness was often a shifting palette of midnight blues and greys and purples, and if you were very, very good, you could just about see shapes in the darkness by the variation in tone. And he knew he was very, very good. So how the hell…and then an icy finger ran its quicksilver way down his spine as his mind suddenly realized something else. "How did you know what I was thinking?" And how the hell can he see me if I can't see him?

"Felt it," the voice drawled without elaboration, still laced with detached amusement. It seemed to be coming from the other end of the table, as though the speaker were seated in the chair Armstrong had vacated. But there had been no sound, no creak from the rickety chair to betray his presence.

He sneered reflexively. "Felt it? Who do you think you are, some kind of tinpot psychic or something? Is this some kind of new alchemic trick that Armstrong is trying? Because it won't work, you know," and he could hear the strained bravado in his own voice even as he fought off a sudden wave of nausea. Why did he feel so off-balance?

"Oh, never say never," the voice said reproachfully. "Ye of little faith. And no, Colonel Armstrong has nothing to do with this. Actually, he's waiting outside, quite nonplussed. Plausible deniability, you see," and the matter-of-factness with which the last was tossed off, as though the speaker fully expected Hendricks to understand the implications, made every nerve in the man's body quiver. He was basically being informed that the gloves had come off, and that this was no amateur interrogator he was facing.

"Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?" and the voice was suddenly right by him, the speaker so close he could feel warm breath brush teasingly over the delicate shell of his ear. He started away, his heart pounding, his bound hands jerking up and yanking painfully on the chair, which wobbled dangerously, then settled down with a bone-jarring thump as an unseen hand caught and spun it around, taking Hendricks unwillingly with it. Chair and man came to rest tilted forward on two legs, leaving him nearly sliding off the seat, his face angled downwards, the manacles around his wrists the only thing keeping him from falling face down on the ground…because for some reason, his feet couldn't seem to reach the floor. He didn't know how the chair was staying balanced, but his arms felt like they were being torn out of their sockets as the weight of his body tugged remorselessly on them, the flimsy standard-issue chair creaking alarmingly with the strain.

"What the _fuck_?" Hadn't the chair been bolted to the floor just seconds ago? His legs kicked helplessly and found only empty air, and no matter how he strained, he couldn't seem to penetrate the darkness that engulfed him. Perhaps it was the blood rushing to his head as a consequence of his precarious position, but he was starting to see strange streaks and spots of colour before his eyes, and he couldn't quite suppress the shudder in his voice as he groped for something else to focus on. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing to me? So this is how your precious Flame Alchemist operates? Should have expected nothing less from that corrupt bastard! General Hakuro was right, he's going to destroy the country!"

Silence greeted him. His breathing was harsh in his ears, and sweat stung his eyes. "Say something, God damn you!"

When the voice finally answered him, it was coming from somewhere in front of him, and he lifted his head desperately and peered into the darkness beyond dark. "I haven't laid a hand on you yet, Warrant Officer. And your god has no place here. Three's a crowd, and we're just having a conversation." And then, as politely as if it were asking him how he was enjoying the weather, "Are you afraid of Alchemists?"

"You wish." It was a snarl born of deep dread, and he knew the other could hear it, because there was a good-natured laugh that did nothing to reassure him.

"And well you should be. We're the closest things to gods there are. What is it they always say? 'Let there be light?'…."

_Humans are born with only two fears. The fear of heights and the fear of loud noises._

There was a sudden loud clap that echoed throughout the room and Hendricks jumped and moaned as a blinding blue light burst into existence, temporarily blinding him as he blinked painfully, tears streaming down his face. He forced his eyes towards the source of the crackling energy and felt his stomach turn as his interrogator was revealed. Cloaked and slight of build. Blonde and pony-tailed, long bangs framing feral golden eyes that glowed in the flickering light as though they were themselves a source of energy, white-gloved hands held up before him as if he were admiring the alchemic power he held so casually in his palms. A silver watch chain gleamed on his distinctively non-standard-issue belt. The warrant officer felt his mouth going dry. No uniform…no arrays that he could see….

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist!"

The young man smiled winningly, the friendly expression strangely at odds with the eerie blue light cast on his face by the alchemic energy in his hands. "I know. Someone has to be. Don't look down now, Warrant Officer."

He did. And screamed as he realized that the chair was somehow balanced on two legs above a yawning blackness that seemed to have no bottom. A sudden howling gust of wind screamed up from the darkness beneath him and made his chair teeter perilously, seesawing forwards and backwards in a jerky oscillation, carrying with it the hissing, rasping sound of serpents somewhere down below crawling over each other, eager for some fresh prey. His mind went blank as his world narrowed to that gaping abyss and fear coiled itself around his bowels and squeezed.

Edward Elric grinned lazily, a wolfish smile that curled slowly about his lips. "Told you not to look." He knelt and slapped a hand to the ground, drawing a stool up from it with a nonchalance that suggested he did that six times before breakfast on a daily basis and could probably do it in his sleep if he needed to. "Now that we're both comfortably seated…let's have a little chat, just you and I."

Hendricks whimpered as the dark closed in again.

_Needs must where the devil drives.

* * *

_

"You all right?" Alp asked gently as the two of them strode down the meandering path away from the ugly stone fortress. The duo had just…persuaded the local leader to cease and desist from his campaign of aggression against a neighbouring province – it was bad enough they were at war with outsiders, but civil unrest at the same time was not a viable option for winning a war, in the Guild's opinion, and they had a vested interest in being on the winning side, after all. Alp had allowed Auric to take the lead, figuring that the new Gatekeeper needed the experience, and the novice had acquitted himself impressively – the pompous, posturing minor warlord had been practically abasing himself in his eagerness to agree to the Guild's demands and get the Gatekeepers to leave. Auric was displaying a distinct lack of enthusiasm over the successful outcome, however, falling into a morose silence the moment they were outside the keep's walls, and Alp was worried about his new partner, who he was beginning to feel a certain amount of protective brotherly affection for.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Auric sighed in frustration. "It's just…it feels wrong, tinkering with people's willpower – I mean, it's one thing to threaten, but we're actually changing something inside them when we manipulate the elements in their nature." His eyes were dull and troubled. "Aren't we supposed to be working for the good of all?"

Alp frowned – he had suspected that this would be the hardest thing for Auric to accept. Every new Gatekeeper went through this. You either got over it or…well…Gatekeepers never were renowned for their long lives. Hesitation was what got you killed, most times. You started to second-guess yourself, then you lost control of the elements you were manipulating while opening a Gate, and _then_ it was all over in a two-for-one deal since the Gatekeeper on the other end of the Gatestream almost always died as well. "The Guild works for the _greater_ good, Auric, and for its own survival. The good of the many must outweigh the good of the few, or the one. That warlord was a 'one'. All the people who will live because you made him stop his pointless warmongering are a 'many'. It's practical. It's politics. We can't save everyone, you know."

"Yes, but how do we know we're right? What if we're just making things worse?" Auric folded his arms mutinously over his chest and glared up at his partner. "We're meddling with the natural order of things."

"We well might be, but at least we're doing it for the right reasons. Ends and means." Auric looked at his partner dubiously, and the taller Gatekeeper shrugged philosophically. "Auric, we're meddling every time we open a Gate, for crying out loud. Yes, it's true that we were acting as _influencers_ back there when we tampered with his _qi_. And it's also true that influence is power, and that power is a burden. It brings responsibilities with it. So it's a good thing to be questioning your actions and motivations – it keeps you honest. But don't let it make you doubt yourself. A Gatekeeper doesn't have that luxury."

"No one asked us to take on the burden of fixing the world," Auric muttered.

"Doesn't change the facts," Alp pointed out in a conciliatory manner. "Fate is. We can but change how we deal with it; it is ultimately your choice to assume the burden of responsibility associated with that power. How would you feel if that little land-hungry warlord had sacked a couple more villages, knowing you could have done something to stop it?"

Golden eyes flicked away to the ground for a moment, then back to up meet clear grey ones. "Do you believe we did the right thing?" Auric asked softly.

Alp regarded his partner soberly. "I do." He clapped a hand on Auric's shoulder. "We made a choice. And perhaps to some ways of thinking, we crossed a line back there. But that is the burden we carry as Gatekeepers, that others might not have to do the same." He hesitated and added, not unkindly, "It is the ironic truth at the core of our existence, that we maintain the balance in this world - and are yet ourselves always set apart from it. The world is saved…but not for us. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be."

Auric stared fixedly at the ground for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "I know."

"Auric," and the young man looked up inquiringly. His partner grinned encouragingly at him. "Remember this: as long as the Guild exists, you do not shoulder this burden alone."

And the golden-haired Gatekeeper finally smiled. "I know, Alp. I know."

* * *

The gentle tap at the door roused Hakuro immediately. He had only been waiting for it most of the night, after all, and he had to force his face into a suitably sleepy-eyed expression of irritation as he shuffled towards the door, yawning to give the impression of a man who had just been awakened from a deep sleep. Don't look expectant, he reminded himself, you don't know anything about the Flame Alchemist's untimely demise yet, remember? He opened the door fully expecting to see a couple of sombre-eyed officers as he schooled his features to annoyed surprise…and then struggled to keep a genuine expression of dismay from his face as he cast about for something intelligent to say.

"Um…I…what…Fullmetal Alchemist. What brings you to my door at this hour?" The younger man raised an elegant brow at the spluttering General. He even acts like the Flame, thought the grey-haired man in confusion, an impression only reinforced by the languid drawl that fell from the blonde alchemist's lips.

"Hello, General. Long time no see. May I come in? We have matters to discuss in private," and the tone of his voice made it clear that it wasn't a request. Hakuro bristled instinctively at being spoken to in this cavalier manner and drew himself up with all the authority of his rank, intending to dress down the presumptuous pup – State Alchemist or not, he was still outranked and should be more respectful of his superiors! – but found himself wavering as Ed fixed his gaze on his face. It was the strangest feeling, as though the wall of resistance he was attempting to muster was crumbling away under a warm wash of energy that seemed to emanate from the slight young man slouched casually on his doorstep, gloved hands in pockets. Ed smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, General. For your family's sake, I'd choose the former. But you'd best decide quickly – my men are less than fifteen minutes away, and that option will be off the table once they get here."

"Come in," Hakuro said mechanically, opening the door, even the most token flicker of resistance drowned in the rising tide of numbness that was seeping into his mind. He didn't even have the energy to wonder why. "We can talk in my study." He turned to lead the way, and so could not see the odd mix of disgust, anger, pity – and guilt that crossed the face of the Fullmetal Alchemist as he followed close behind, treading so lightly his feet left no trace of his passing on the plush carpet.

Ten minutes later soldiers were pounding at the door, led by one Captain Jean Havoc.

Thirty seconds after that, they burst into the study just as a gunshot echoed through the house, followed shortly by hysterical wailing.

And back at Central HQ, Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric received the tragic news that General Hakuro had shot himself in his study with every appearance of consternation and regret that such a distinguished officer should have stooped to treason against the Fuhrer-elect, but was much heartened by the fact that the General had, in the end, seen the error of his ways after receiving news that his accomplices had confessed, and had opted for an honourable death by his own sidearm, in full uniform, after hastily writing and signing a full confession absolving his family of any knowledge or participation in his scheme to assassinate the Fuhrer-elect and Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang. He instructed Major Riza Hawkeye to have the appropriate condolences and flowers sent to the Hakuro family with assurances that the General's pension would still be paid to his wife for the rest of her days. He commended Captain Havoc on the swiftness of his execution and dispatched a second platoon to assist in impounding the General's personal effects as evidence, as well as in rounding up the rest of the little cabal behind the heinous plot. He penned a very brief memo to Brigadier General Maes Hughes opining that the threat to the Fuhrer-elect had been successfully neutralized and recommended commendations for all involved. He thought about writing one to the Fuhrer-elect himself, and decided that the bastard could learn to wait for a report for once. Then he left the office and went and found a quiet bench in one of the outdoor gardens around HQ and watched the stars slowly vanish and the sun come up on a red dawn, and that was where Major Alphonse Elric found him an hour later when he came to bring news that their services were required immediately up north, golden eyes staring blankly, hands loosely clasped before him and his face pale and set in the cold light of morning.

"Brother?"

"Hey, Al."

"Are you all right? You didn't get hurt rescuing General Mustang, did you?"

"No, Al, I'm fine." And then with a bleak smile, "Can't say the same for Hakuro though."

"He chose his own path, brother. It's not like you made him do it," Al offered phlegmatically. His brother winced at that for some reason.

"Hey, Al?"

"Yes, brother?"

"Have you ever done something you…never mind." Al frowned, then sat down beside his brother and waited patiently. Ed shifted slightly. "Do you ever feel…I don't know…like you're utterly alone?"

"Brother. Look at me." Ed dragged his eyes away from the horizon and met his brother's serene gaze. The Earth Moving Alchemist grinned encouragingly. "I could never feel alone, because I have you. And you'll always have me too. Even if I can't understand everything you're going through, even if you can't – or won't - tell me about it right away…I'm always going to be here to listen."

And Ed finally smiled, and a little light came back into his eyes, though a sadness yet lingered about the lines of his mouth. "I know, Al. I know." And Al, ever the tactful one, said nothing else as he leaned a little into his brother's arm, letting him know he was there.

* * *

"I don't understand," Roy said softly, his voice pitched low and soothing, not wanting to disturb Ed any further than was necessary. The blonde alchemist's gaze was turned inwards, eyes cast blankly on the rumpled sheets as he slowly peeled back the layers of memory, and Roy was hesitant to break the spell. "What happens when you act as an influencer?"

Ed's eyes rose slowly from the bed, but they were still disturbingly empty as they drifted to a point on the wall just behind Roy's shoulder, and the Flame Alchemist had to fight down the urge to turn and check if there was something behind him. "_Qi_ lines run throughout the fabric of every living thing. Stabilizing the five elements…it's how we teleport, it's how we open Gates…it's how we influence other people, if all else fails. Everyone's made up of a delicate balance of five elements…you tamper with that balance, you tamper with who someone _is_. You can _feel_ your way into another's will and bend it to your own." Ed's chin came up, his face emerging into the moonlight streaming in the window as he met Roy's gaze, and Roy caught his breath, because in an instant it wasn't Ed sitting there but Auric, keen-eyed and knowing, searching Roy's face for understanding. "Your particular element, for instance. Fire. Drive, ambition, passion. But all it takes to tip the balance, to damp the flame, is a little water…" and Roy gasped as he felt an odd numbness begin to creep into his mind, clutching tendrils of fog that blurred sight and drew him insistently into a state of dulled awareness even as he fought to stay alert, "…or an absence of air…" and the fog was abruptly gone, replaced by an unreasoning panic as though he were slowly smothering, his mouth gone dry as the air seemed to rush out of his lungs. He struggled mightily against the feeling, and then with a sudden wrenching sensation, as though a hood were being ripped of his face, the feeling was gone, and someone was kneeling before him, one hand on his shoulder and another gripping Roy's chin almost painfully as he peered worriedly into Roy's face, tipping it brusquely this way and that. "Roy. Come on, bastard, snap out of it. Roy. Roy, are you all right? How do you feel?"

"Like an insane alchemist is trying to take my head off," Roy finally rasped out, throat dry. "What the hell did you do?"

The younger man dropped his hands and sat back on his haunches with a sigh of guilt and relief. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how else to show you what it means. You'd be a hard nut to crack for most though…I've rarely had to deal with anyone who resisted that much."

"You managed," Roy pointed out, taking a deep breath and willing the hammering beneath his ribs to stop. The power commanded by the young man before him would have terrified him were it not for the fact that he trusted its wielder implicitly.

A flash of fang. "I'm not most Gatekeepers."

"Is that what you did to Hakuro? And Hendricks? Did you…" and Roy couldn't finish the sentence.

"Fear is a powerful lever, Mustang. And as for Hakuro, I merely pointed out his options…and pointed him in the right direction. We're influencers…the person ultimately has to choose for himself. As you've demonstrated, it is possible to resist, and it is possible to break free of the influence." And with a fatalistic shrug, Auric slipped away like quicksilver, and it was Ed bending his head forward so that his loose hair fell about his face, hiding his expression as he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "But yes, I did…stack the deck a little. It had to be done. And at least my way, his family will still be cared for. You know they would have been disgraced and left penniless if he had been court-martialed and executed, or killed while resisting arrest." Ed's mouth twisted wryly. "Not to mention…Maes's propaganda machine found the handwritten confession of guilt fine fodder, did it not?"

Roy shook his head, stunned. He had suffered his share of sleepless nights and guilty dreams over the many people and situations he had manipulated as he traversed the labyrinthine path that had led him here to this day on which he was to become Fuhrer. The Fullmetal Alchemist had been a part of many of those schemes, both willingly and unwillingly. But this new burden the young man bore was far greater than his own. "Ed…it's not…."

"Not my fault?" and Roy could not tell who it was gazing at him out of those glowing golden eyes, Auric, or Edward, or someone else entirely. "Don't. That only makes it worse. At least let me have this: that I _chose_ this. My choice. My responsibility alone." His voice dropped to a register that made Roy's throat ache in sympathy. "The day I stop taking responsibility for it is the day I lose my conscience. And I'd rather die than become a power-crazed madman."

"Fine," Roy said sharply. "Your choice. Your responsibility. _But you do not shoulder this burden alone._" Ed started in surprise at the familiar words, and Roy pressed on urgently, needing Ed to understand, willing Ed not to shut him out. "Think about it. Why did you choose to do what you did?"

"It needed to be done," Ed said softly. "It was the only way to ensure your safety. No one will try to touch you now, not for a while at least, and certainly not while I'm with you." If you still want me with you now that you know this, his defensive posture screamed to Roy's trained eye, and the dark-haired man shook his head in disbelief.

"In other words, you did it for me." A reluctant nod. "And you don't think that makes it my responsibility as well? Ed…Hakuro was a sacrifice. Your choice was a sacrifice. I don't know that I deserve it, but I'm damned well going to do my best to ensure those sacrifices weren't in vain." He reached out cautiously, coaxing Ed into his arms, settling the young man against his chest and tucking the blonde head under his chin as he tried to caress away the quivering tension running through the taut lines of Ed's body. "I made you a promise that I would change this world. I intend to keep it. For all the innocent in it, and for those yet to come."

Ed's lips were pressed tightly together as he murmured, "The world is saved…but not for us."

"No," Roy agreed, holding him close. "But we have each other, and in that there is a separate peace." And Ed turned in his arms and kissed him, and he knew that Ed understood.


	33. King And Qilin

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Well, maybe Auric, but he's his own person in many ways. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Although my little AU uses the anime as its departure point, manga Ling Yao wanted in for some reason, so here he is. He may be a little OOC, but I don't think he's Greed. But I've been wrong before. Couldn't work the Roy and Ed conceit I wanted to convey in without him though, and he's good for a little humour, so indulge me. Review and let me know what you think, or Auric will go into a funk and we'll never get to that damned ball, and we're so close! So close!...

* * *

**_Chapter 32: King and Qilin_**

"Colonel?" Chief Warrant Officer Fury asked timidly as he tapped lightly on the open office door and leaned in, ready to run if the blonde alchemist behind the desk was in as bad a mood now as he had been when he had first come into the office. Fortunately, Fury had learned from experience years earlier with a certain other then-Colonel, who had also happened to be a State Alchemist, that an offering of coffee had a way of soothing ruffled feathers, and right now the Lieutenant Colonel was on his fourth cup. Black. As strong as Fury could make it without making a hole in the coffeepot.

"Not now, Chief," came a distracted voice from behind a mountain of paper. "Go ask Major Hawkeye about…whatever it is you want to ask me about. And give these to Captain Havoc for dissemination immediately," and a gloved hand waved vaguely at an overflowing outbox. Never let it be said that he wasn't focused when he had to be, even on paperwork, unlike another Colonel he could think of.

Fury obediently scooped up the mountain of papers. "She doesn't have the authority, sir, and it's kind of urgent. It's about the pre-inauguration diplomatic reception that starts…um…right about now?"

A gusty sigh, and a blonde head emerged as Edward Elric stood and stretched from behind the precariously teetering pile of maps and security plans he had been going over. "What is it? Make it quick – shit, wait a minute, I'm supposed to be at that reception, aren't I?"

"Yes sir, but that's the problem, we need you to escort one of the ambassadors in." Fury looked extremely frazzled. "He's refusing his current escort – says it's insulting to have Colonel Winchester escort him because the Colonel isn't a State Alchemist."

Ed muttered something about the ambassador's ancestry that Fury carefully opted not to hear. "Send Al. Now where did I leave my jacket…damn, I hate these formal uniforms, too many fiddly bits…aha!" He snatched the offending article off the floor where he had dropped it earlier, running a quick hand over the front to straighten the many ribbons Hughes had insisted _had_ to be pinned on. As if the pins on the high collar, twisted into the same design that adorned his pocket watch, and the gold braid that trimmed every edge and facing weren't enough. In what _had_ to be the universe's idea of equivalent exchange, his _extremely_ rewarding night with Roy and subsequent romantic awakening, breakfast, and what had started out as a continuation of last night's exertions had been abruptly curtailed by an emergency summons to HQ for both the Fuhrer-elect and the Hero Of The People. He supposed it was only natural for everything to go wrong on the eve of the biggest State Event in at least a decade, but why did he have to get stuck with cleaning up logistical messes? Was there no one at HQ capable of keeping a level head under pressure? How did it fall to him, Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, Gatekeeper and all-around hothead to suddenly be the voice of reason? Damn it, he'd told Hughes he was a _field agent_, not a desk jockey. Al was so going to get it later for slipping off and leaving him to sort out all the security details on the pretext of having to "supervise" the transmutation of the pavilion that was to be the setting for tonight's formal inauguration ball…although it was also true that Ed would not have felt comfortable letting anyone else handle the security details given that he _did _have avested interest in keeping Roy alive in order to re-enact the previous night on a regular basis…but that really wasn't the point. And what the hell had Fury put in his coffee anyway - it was giving him the jitters and setting his teeth on edge. It hadn't helped in the least to have Roy send him off with nary a kiss or a touch as he'd gotten out of the car Maes had sent for them, although to be fair, he'd only been lecturing Roy about not traumatizing the younger men with open displays of possessive affection since…well…since the his most recent trip back from the Gate of Truth. That would make it two or three weeks now. But did the bastard have to pick the morning after to start following Ed's orders? He growled, an irritated noise that rolled up from somewhere a little further south than his gut that managed to be both frightening and incredibly seductive, although the latter interpretation certainly wasn't one that any of his subordinates were going to entertain for even a second. Immolation by jealous Flame Alchemist was a lousy way to go. And...and...

Perhaps he needed to cut back on the coffee.

"Sir…" Fury was wringing his hands as he shifted nervously from side to side. "The Earth Moving Alchemist is busy with the inauguration pavilion as you well know, and anyway, he's only a Major, sir. Has to be at least a half-Colonel."

"Hughes."

"He's not a State Alchemist, sir. And he's already in the reception hall."

"Armstrong."

Fury stared incredulously at the Fullmetal Alchemist. "Colonel _Armstrong_?"

Ed winced as he and Fury shared a moment, courtesy of the pink sparkles. "Forget I said that. Fine, I'll do it." He shoved his arms into his jacket unceremoniously, yanking his ponytail out the collar as he settled it about his shoulders and swiftly did up the fastenings, grimacing at the unaccustomed constriction caused by the stiff material of the formal uniform. Fury produced a lint brush out of nowhere and attacked the back of Ed's jacket with vigour, causing the young Colonel to raise an inquiring brow at him even as he swiftly patted himself down, checking to make sure his weapons were all in place. His heavy leather gauntlets wouldn't fit under the narrow sleeves, much to his annoyance, but throwing stars and points fit almost anywhere, and he'd insisted on substituting his _sais_ for the ceremonial sword and gun belt. Two now rested easily in the back of his belt, hidden by his jacket, and Maes had mourned the ruination of the "line" he kept referring to whenever he eyed Ed's trimly clad figure. Having never been one to care much about his appearance, whether as Gatekeeper or alchemist, he didn't share the older man's qualms.

"The black dress uniforms show dust easily, sir," Fury offered sheepishly. "I've already had to brush General Mustang down twice, the diplomats' wives keep insisting on kissing him and leaving streaks of powder on his collar."

"Oh they do, do they?" and Fury squeaked because the Colonel's yellow eyes had abruptly narrowed in a way that indicated he was most definitely not amused. Ed turned sharply on his heel and strode down the corridor to the anteroom where the ambassador would be waiting. So. He didn't even warrant a buss on the cheek in parting and some hoity-toity uppity society matrons got to put their grouted and spackled faces and lips all over Roy just because they were married to Ambassadors? His fingers twitched and reached subconsciously for the weapons pressing into the small of his back. This day was going just _peachy_. "Is this one married?"

His face must have given his intentions away, because Fury paled visibly. "No, sir, he's actually about your age!" the bespectacled Chief called after the Colonel's retreating back. "And sir! Sir! Please don't hurt the guests! And no killing the ambassador. Or anyone!"

Ed deliberately walked a little faster. Maybe if he outpaced Fury, he could argue that he hadn't heard the man later. Plausible deniability and all that. He pivoted neatly on his heel as he turned down the next corridor and slammed open the door with one white-gloved hand, making the occupants of the room jump. All but for the tallest one, who turned in a swirl of brocaded robes and beamed at him in delighted recognition. Ed's mind temporarily went blank – although he did take note that the man was still taller than him by a half-head, damn it! - as he shook his head in disbelief and began to back out of the room.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no." He stifled a yelp as he bumped into Fury, who had displayed surprising prescience and stationed himself at the door to prevent just such an occurrence.

"Edward Elric! How wonderful! Yes, this escort will do," and the ambassador from Xing waved negligently at the Chief Warrant Officer, dismissing him from his presence. Fury shut the door discreetly in relief, but not before pointing the blonde Colonel meaningfully towards the double doors leading to the reception rooms, and only the knowledge that teleporting somewhere very, very far away from here would reveal his abilities to the Ambassador, and the fact that he could hear Roy's distinctive tones holding court in the next room, kept him from fleeing the scene. "It's been so long, Ed! How have you been? You certainly look well, apart from the wrinkles caused by all that scowling," and the affected pout in the man's voice made Ed roll his eyes even as Gatekeeper instincts kicked in, enabling him to force a glittering smile onto his face as he bowed fractionally to the flamboyant ambassador.

"Hello, Ling."

* * *

Ed was going to _kill_ Al for weaselling out of this one. And Maes, for putting him in this uniform. And Fury, for sticking him with Ling. And Havoc, just on principle. And…no, Hawkeye was probably out of bounds. And Roy…Roy was going to pay for…well…_something_. Because he just knew that this was somehow Roy's fault. Somehow, someway, Roy was going to _get_ _his_. 

Roy glanced over from across the room as if he had read Ed's thoughts. He looked far more at ease in this gathering than Ed felt, dark eyes sparkling with hidden amusement and affection as he met Ed's glowering tawny gaze, lips quirking momentarily as he inclined his head courteously in acknowledgement of Ed's belated presence and increasing level of irritation before turning back to the fat Cretan ambassador who had evidently been at the refreshments table a little too enthusiastically, judging from the increasingly violent swaying. The stout State Alchemist nominally in charge of escorting the man and his entourage looked mortified as the Fuhrer-elect excused himself to greet a few newcomers, politely ignoring the ambassador's gauche behaviour, and Ed had to admit that it could be worse - at least his charge for the next hour or so was sufficiently well-bred to conduct himself appropriately, being the twelfth son of the Emperor of Xing, Heir to the Throne of the Yao clan, etcetera. Or was Ling the fifteenth? He'd never been very good with meaningless titles.

"Edward…you're ignoring me," came a whine, and Ed revised his previous opinion immediately. The man was a pain in the ass, and literally royal, too. Did he ever stop _talking_? But since he was stuck with him, and for Roy's sake, he would try to be…cordial. His stormy expression softened as he allowed his eyes to wander possessively over the Flame Alchemist's elegant figure, trying to decide if he liked the man better in or out of uniform. The latter state definitely had its perks, but the former wasn't half bad, he thought contentedly, whether it be in the black formal uniform he was wearing now or his usual blue. Although the black heightened the contrast between Roy's pale skin and dark hair, and somehow brought out the midnight blue of his eyes. A petulant tug on his sleeve brought his wandering mind back to the current company, however, and while it had dark hair and exotically tilted eyes much like Roy's…it simply wasn't him.

"How may I be of service, Excellency?" Ed inquired evenly. The hilts of his _sais_ pressed mockingly into his back as he clasped his hands firmly behind him – if he was holding on to himself, he couldn't very well strangle Ling now, could he? "The Fuhrer-elect will no doubt make his way over in good time, I assure you. In the meantime, perhaps you should mingle with the company? I believe the ambassador from Aerugo has been looking forward to paying his respects. Or have you tried the canapés? You're not _paying_ for them after all," he jibed, recalling the way the ambassador had always sponged off him at meals whenever they had run into each other on their respective travels. For someone who was supposed to be royalty and therefore rich, Ling was a tight-fisted bastard…and he stomped on the smirking little thought that Roy was too, in a completely different sort of way. Mind out of gutter, damn it, he groaned at himself. Shit. He'd forgotten – or Auric had – what it was like to feel besotted in the initial stages of taking a lover – all you ever wanted to do was to touch them for at least the next few days and bask in that heady glow – he really should have waited until _after_ all this nonsense to bed Roy, because the man was _addictive_; he could tell already from the way his traitorous mind kept inserting fragmentary flashbacks – a brush of skin, the burning warmth of a kiss, the gut-wrenching memory of scent and taste – into his thoughts every other minute or so. Bugger all…and he kicked himself for using the expression as it started up again. Shit. He hoped he wasn't blushing.

"So formal, Ed?" sighed Ling as he stared at this acquaintance of his teenaged years. "You're no fun anymore. Where's Al? He was always nicer. Does he still stomp around in that silly suit of armour though?" For some reason, Ed was looking a little strained – the past four years couldn't have been easy ones. But he had grown – not much, to be sure, but some – and he certainly had _blossomed_. The colour was high in his cheeks, and Ling wondered if Ed had any idea of his sexual attractiveness – the man _had_ to be, it was washing off him in waves, and all these silly women kept finding excuses to pass by the oblivious young officer. Oh, wait. Oblivious. Right. Ed probably hadn't noticed a thing, if his childhood obsessiveness was still with him – it tended to blind the Fullmetal Alchemist to just about everything else. Hmm. Perhaps it was time to enlighten Ed…and if that meant Ling got a little something out of it, well, at least it would liven up the dreariness of all this diplomatic pomp. No wonder his father had been more than happy to pack him off in his stead – the old man might be Emperor, but he loathed this sort of thing.

"People _grow up_, Ling," Ed bit off testily. "And no, Alphonse has shed his armour. He's married now, with a daughter." Maybe if he threatened to transmute all of Hughes's photos of Alicia into toilet paper, he could persuade the man to move the inauguration up? To, say, right now? Anything to escape this…this….

"Really?" the ambassador asked interestedly. "So little Al's gotten himself a woman." There was a pause, and then the man continued, almost too casually, "How about you? Aren't you looking to settle down yourself? Or are you playing the field? With your looks, who could blame you?"

Ed froze. Ling had sounded almost…sultry. And the weighing look in his eyes…oh no. No, no, no, no, no. He did not need this on top of everything else. "My duties to the Fuhrer-elect keep me very busy, Excellency. And I am young yet to be considering _settling_." Now settling _down_ with Roy, on the other hand, wasn't even a consideration. It was simple fact. However, Ed saw absolutely no need to enlighten the nosey princeling on his private life.

Ling shrugged elaborately, tossing his long dark ponytail. "All work and no play, Ed. You're too…_goal-oriented_," and he said it as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Then again, I suppose one has to be working for a man like your Fuhrer-to-be. Roy Mustang's reputation is known even in Xing, you know – as is yours. Roy – such a _boring_ name. But singularly appropriate -it means king, you know. The regal one. He certainly looks it," and Ling's tone had turned dispassionate, almost clinical. "Pity about his birth – I heard he's illegitimate, did you know? His father's some noble or another – but it's obvious he owes his looks to some Xinganese blood," and Ling preened ostentatiously. Ed stoically ignored him as he did his best imitation of Alphonse as a suit of armour, eyes forward and face expressionless. The ambassador pouted again at being ignored, then abruptly brightened up. "And then there is your name. Very appropriate given your duties."

Ed stifled a groan. Ling was still as garrulous as ever, and it seemed that he was intent on continuing to bend Ed's ear on this topic. The man could not take a hint. "Fine, I'll bite. What does my name mean?"

"Why – blessed guard or guardian. Another translation would have it mean 'rich guard', but in that case I would have to assume it was a reference to your colouring, golden one," and Ling's eyes flicked meaningfully to Ed's hair, one hand reaching out to smooth Ed's cowlick down and tuck a stray strand of gold behind a ear. Ed bit his lip and tried not to flinch. "Fetching when you were little and stunning now," and the blatant invitation in the ambassador's voice as he eyed Ed meaningfully made the blonde alchemist wish he could put Ling's head through a wall. People were turning to look at the pair he and Ling made, and the level of conversation went up as speculation began to run rampant.

Don't hurt the guests. Don't kill the ambassador, Ed chanted mentally in his head. He wondered if there was a clause that permitted one to claim outraged modesty as a reason for inflicting bodily harm. "Thank you," he gritted out, swallowing the instinctive urge to scream something about his height, a flea and a bar of gold. "Nice weather we're having today, isn't it – eep!" and the last embarrassing squeak coincided with Ling's hand brushing against his butt meaningfully. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy turn sharply, the man's face darkening as he took in Ed's flushed face and Ling's lasciviously smirking one. How had he not seen that one coming? The Gatekeeper within him was hugely chagrined at being so distracted as to allow this to happen, and he continued to berate himself as he tried to edge away discreetly. See, _this_ is why the Guild proscribes getting emotionally involved – it's a dangerous weakness, a small voice piped up.

"You're cute when you're blushing," murmured Ling, breaking into the turmoil in Ed's mind, and those words, words Ed certainly did not want to hear from anyone but Roy, which he had just identified as a weakness, and certainly not Ling, which was a different sort of problem, were the last straw to the Gatekeeper's sorely tested patience. Auric was generally easy going, but this had been a trying day thus far. In one smooth motion, the blonde drew his sais and had one to Ling's throat and the other at his bodyguard's before the latter could even bring out a weapon. The two Xinganese stood stunned, and Ling's eyes narrowed appraisingly at Ed's obvious speed and skill with the weapons.

"Grope me again, and you'll wish I were ignoring you, Ling." Ed spoke in normal tones, but the lopsided smile he turned on the ambassador was anything but. "Now, this is supposed to be a nice, diplomatic reception. So we're all going to be nice and diplomatic. And then I'm going to swear my bastard General in. And then you're going to acknowledge him as Fuhrer. And then we're all going to a nice inauguration ball where we're all going to be incredibly nice and polite to each other. And then you're going to go back to Xing. And at _no_ time during those events are you going to so much as _think_ about breathing on me or I will _hurt_ you. Are we quite clear on that?" He glared pointedly at the ambassador with eyes of molten gold in which smouldering embers of anger burned, but retained the presence of mind to flick his gaze warningly Roy's way, stopping the Flame Alchemist in his tracks. _I can handle this. You take care of diplomacy, I'll take care of…other stuff_, and once again Roy displayed an unerring ability to read minds – or was it only Ed's? - because he pursed his lips briefly before nodding imperceptibly and turning back to the room to subtly assert his presence, drawing attention back to him and away from the little altercation between the Fullmetal Alchemist and the ambassador from Xing. Ed had to suppress the thought that it actually felt good knowing that he had…no, he _owned_ that supremely attractive man body and soul, and a small grin at the way Roy trusted him crept onto his face as a bubble of warmth seemed to form in his chest. The bodyguard attempted to use Ed's momentary distraction to reach for a weapon, but stopped short when the blade at her throat wavered meaningfully. Ed turned his head back to the Xinganese. "I wouldn't do that. Not that it would trouble me, particularly, but blood is _so_ hard to get off the carpet, even with alchemy, you know?" and the off-hand manner in which he spoke told them volumes about his seriousness, despite the fact that he had not yet raised his voice.

Ling finally spoke again, his dark eyes gone narrow and appraising as they darted thoughtfully between Ed…and the Fuhrer-elect. While he too kept his volume in check, his voice suddenly seemed deeper and more authoritative. "Put the weapons away, Fullmetal Alchemist. You have my word that nothing of this nature will happen again" and the use of his title and the sudden sombre sincerity he could feel washing off Ling made Ed comply slowly. The man's face had gone pensive, all traces of his prior petulance wiped clean in an instant as he seemed to come to some kind of realization. "Colonel Elric…you…have you ever heard of a _qilin_?"

"What?" Ed shook his head irritably. What on earth was Ling playing at now? The man's ability to wander off on tangents seemed unparalleled. "No, Excellency, I have not." There was a sharp intake of breath as Ling's bodyguard stared at Ed, wide-eyed, gone in an instant from hostile to…awed?

"Indulge me for a moment then. In my land, a _qilin_ is a mythical beast, a little like your unicorn," Ling said, clasping his hands behind his back as he rocked back and forth in thought. "It is said only to appear in areas ruled by a wise and benevolent leader – some even say its appearance is a sign that a new ruler has been found, and that it is a manifestation of the Mandate Of Heaven – the right to rule, do you understand? To see one, to be in its presence is a great honour, and it is accorded the highest respect."

Ed nodded warily. He had heard vague references to that concept in his travels, and it made sense that the prospective heir to the throne of Xing would know of such things. Ling was starting off into space as he put his thoughts together. "The _qilin _is a merciful beast, but it punishes evil ruthlessly with fearsome power. Some legends even say all kings have a _qilin_ by their side, to guide their conscience and remind them of their duty to the land. The bond is unbreakable, except by death, or if the king loses his way – becomes cruel, or weak, or fails his people in some other way - and thus loses the Mandate Of Heaven. The _qilin_ would sicken and die, and the king would fall soon thereafter. Unshakable trust, and some say love, is the core of the relationship between a king and a _qilin_ – the latter is unfailingly loyal unto death, and the former will do everything in his power to protect his _qilin_ – and by extension, the country."

"Fascinating," Ed muttered, resisting the urge to check his pocket watch to see how much longer he would have to endure Ling's presence. "Forgive me, Excellency, but I fail to see your point."

Ling cocked his head to one side and smiled kindly, suddenly looking much more like the Prince of Xing that he was. "Isn't that your Fuhrer-elect over there? The one you referred to as, and I quote,'_my _bastard General'? Interesting choice of possessive pronoun, is it not?"

Had he? Ed ran his words over rapidly in his mind. Damn. Ling was a lot sharper than he made himself out to be. And Ed himself was definitely slipping. "That wasn't…what I meant was, he's…."

"Look at him, Ed," Ling's voice was somehow compelling, and Ed slowly turned his not-unwilling eyes towards Roy, who looked up from across the room as he felt Ed's gaze settle on him. Their eyes locked, and suddenly Ed couldn't look away, the sensation of slowly falling into the warm velvet darkness of Roy's eyes overwhelming everything else, blotting out the sounds of the people chattering away about them, the room itself, everything but Roy standing there, a sloe-eyed vision carved in alabaster, a faint look of concern crossing his face as he raised a brow that looked as though it had been inked in with a fine brush. Edswore he could feel Roy's voice ghosting lightly across his mind asking if everything was all right, and he was barely able to nod, his hands clenching into fists by his side as he fought for control, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as he struggled to find something to say to break the spell. Roy frowned slightly, then excused himself from the group of fawning dignitaries he had been entertaining and began to make his way over to Ed, his eyes flickering over briefly to Ling before coming back to Ed's stunned face and parted lips.

"He is your king. And _you_ are _his_ _qilin_, Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero Of The People," and the words breaking into Ed's thoughts, coming as they did in Ling's lightly accented, yet flawless Amestrian, seemed to carry a greater weight and meaning than a mere statement of fact. Ed tore his eyes away from Roy, cursing mentally as he felt his face warm with telltale heat, and looked at Ling in wonder as the façade of the harum-scarum young prince of Xing he remembered fell away suddenly to reveal a man with wise eyes and a wistful smile. "Your Fuhrer is indeed honoured by Heaven to have one such as you by his side."

"The honour is mine to serve." The formal words fell easily from Ed's lips, though he could not have said why. They seemed right, and Ling nodded as if he had expected nothing less. Behind him, his bodyguard had fallen to her knees and was prostrating herself on the floor.

"I will make my official congratulations to him after the ceremonies, but here and now, while I am honoured by a private audience with the _qilin_ of Amestris, may I say: the kingdom of Xing sends its felicitations to the state of Amestris upon the ascension of its new ruler with the Mandate Of Heaven – and the reappearance of its _qilin_ after four years. Rule long. Rule well. Never forget the people." And Ling folded his hands into his full sleeves and made a deep reverence to Ed.

The room full of diplomats had mostly fallen silent, noticing the intense nature of the conversation between the Fullmetal Alchemist and the powerful ambassador of Xing. An invisible barrier of good manners kept anyone from venturing close enough to overhear the conversation, but a gasp ran around the room as the ambassador actually bowed low before the young blonde officer.

"Ling…Excellency…you really shouldn't…" murmured Ed embarrassedly, aware of the stir they were causing, and of Roy's eyes burning a hole into the back of his neck. His childhood acquaintance straightened easily, a boyish grin on his face.

"Ah, but it was worth it to see you blush so!" and in the merry laugh that followed, the old Ling could be seen peeking out through his eyes. But he instantly sobered as Ed made to return the gesture, holding out a hand. "No, Edward, that would be wrong." And before Ed could ask why, Ling's dark eyes had travelled over his shoulder to meet Roy's equally dark ones that held a challenge of a very primal sort in their depths. The ambassador returned his gaze to Ed's face, tracing over his features as if to etch them into memory, then smiled again, a benevolent expression that somehow managed to embody both acceptance and amusement. "A _qilin_ only bows to his king. And if I'm not mistaken…you have a _very _possessive king." And with that, Ling nodded and moved off tactfully as Roy crossed the room towards Ed with grim purpose in every footstep. Ed rolled his eyes and discreetly waved off a panicky looking Fury – the little man looked like he was about to have apoplexy at the prospect of his Fuhrer creating a diplomatic incident by torching the ambassador from Xing.

"Ah, Fullmetal. What was all that about?" Roy's expression never wavered from its pleasant configuration as he nodded to a couple of new arrivals. The look in his eyes, however, was anything but, and his stance was unmistakably possessive as he folded his hands behind his back and stepped closer than was absolutely necessary towards the blonde alchemist.

"Not _now_, General," Ed hummed warningly as he smiled brightly at a passing female dignitary whose bulk far exceeded the amount of fabric that had been used to make the peculiar garment she was wearing. "I'll explain later. Wouldn't want you to get a fat head even before you'd even been inaugurated. Don't do anything stupid now, Ling was just…making an observation. About us. And by the way, bastard, I am _so_ never bowing to you. You can put that out of your mind right now. Never happening. Nope."

Roy arched a brow eloquently in the interrogative, but decided to mollify his young lover by deliberately not pointing out that Ed had already bowed to him last night. Several times, in fact. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders as Ed discreetly brushed his arm with his own, Roy wanting the contact as badly as the younger man did. "Just tell me you're not planning to run off to Xing with him. Or tell me, so I can roast him now."

Ed smirked. It did feel good to be wanted. "So what if I am?"

"I'm wearing my gloves and the lighter's in my pocket. And I'm very, very good at what I _do_," and Roy's voice dropped to a sultry purr that was a gentle yank on the leash, a reminder and a promise.

Ed bit his lip to keep from grinning at the double entendre, although the look in his eyes as they slid over Roy's uniform meaningfully was acknowledgement enough. "Is _that_ what that is? I thought you were just _happy_ to see me."

Roy curbed the urge to look down and check the lines of his uniform to make sure he wasn't embarrassing himself, instead glancing casually across at their reflections in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors in the salon. No, everything looked fine, no unsightly bulges in odd places. "Please don't scale everything down to fit your pint-sized version of the world, Fullmetal. Perhaps further…exposure would broaden your horizons."

"Who the hell are you calling a pint-sized pigmy so small he wouldn't tip the scales even if there was nothing but air on the other side and wouldn't be seen against the horizon without a telescope?"

Roy smiled serenely and resisted ravishing Ed senseless in the middle of the salon. While it would be gratifying, having to pay for the medical costs of all the guests who might pass out in shock, or envy, or lust would be ridiculously expensive, and he'd only just managed to balance the budget this morning.

From across the room, Ling watched the pair banter with an indulgent smile. Ah well, not quite the epiphany he had initially intended to give Ed, but one far more important instead. King and _qilin_ indeed. Would that he might find his _qilin_ someday – a conscience, a partner, a friend…and if Ling was any judge of people, and he _was_, a lover as well. But for now, he was still the twelfth son of the Emperor of Xing and heir of the Yao clan, and he had a job to do. Snatching a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, he turned back to the little group that had gathered about him and summoned up a dazzling smile.

"Yes, pleasant weather we're having, indeed."


	34. Words And Actions

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Sorry to be so long in updating, but it was unavoidable owing to various other commitments (exams being a large part!) and then the last section of this chapter wouldn't quite come together. It was always on my mind though! Thanks to all the lovely people who reviewed. As for a few of the more common questions I got on the last chapter, a few answers: the _qilin_ is an actual creature of mythology, found in Chinese, Japanese and Korean lore. However, the finer points of the relationship between a ruler and _qilin_ were the product of an overactive imagination. I've been told by a couple of people that a similar concept is used in an anime series called _Twelve Kingdoms_ in case anyone's interested. Within the context of _Full Circle_ though, the reference is more symbolic of who and what Ed is to Roy and to Amestris, so don't worry, I don't think Ed's going to turn into a unicorn-like creature any time soon. He has his hands full enough with who he is right now!

And, um…sincerest apologies, but we're not going to get to the ball in this chapter. Next chapter, I think! Happy reading –NF.

* * *

**_Chapter 34: Words And Actions_**

Maes Hughes thought he was going to cry. No, strike that, he _knew_ he was going to cry. This was all just so…just so…beautiful. Not as beautiful as Alicia, of course, but still…really quite nice. He puffed up his chest and pushed his glasses up on his nose firmly as he looked about him with pride.

All the damaged buildings had been efficiently restored by rebuilding teams under the command of one Major Alphonse Elric, working day and night to ensure that the area would be in good shape in time for the inauguration, the white stone facades smooth and pristine under the afternoon sun. He hadn't missed the impressed looks on the faces of the foreign dignitaries – he _did_ have his roots in Intelligence, after all – which was exactly the effect he had been aiming for: Amestris was not to be trifled with, the State was still strong despite the recent bloody conflict and it would rebuild itself upon its own ashes if necessary; any attempts to take advantage of the State's current weakness would fail. Like Roy, he understood the power of appearances. Except that he applied himself on a fair greater scale than his old friend did, which was only right and proper after all: Roy's job was to maintain his image in the eyes of the people – and an outstanding job the man did, too - while Maes's was to maintain the image of the State. An approving eye swept over the men massed in perfectly straight ranks before him. Shiny medals pinned perfectly straight on dark formal uniforms winked brightly in the sunlight as their wearers breathed evenly, not a muscle moving otherwise as they lined the massive flight of stairs that rose up to meet the sweeping columns of the Great Hall where the inauguration was to be held.

The culmination of all their efforts since Ishbal. Everything would change after today. It was imposing. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was…

"…tacky," snorted the blonde man at his shoulder as he shifted uncomfortably in his uniform, running a finger around the high collar in a futile attempt to loosen it. The stiffness of the material was making him itch. "What is it with you military men and all this…this…." A white-gloved hand waved irritably at the scene before them as words failed the young Lieutenant Colonel.

"Hmm?"

"_Pomp_ and _Circumstance_," Ed finally managed, making the clearly capitalized words sound like swearing. "Why not a smaller ceremony? Something dignified? Just a few important dignitaries…." The Fullmetal Alchemist seemed to be glaring at the ambassador of Xing who stood a little ways away with the other ambassadors, and the dark-haired man grinned and waved back discreetly. Ed's eyes narrowed further, and Maes's brows went up as His Excellency Ling Yao blew a kiss at the blonde, the Brigadier making a mental note to get the story on that later. "Or not. Maybe a private ceremony at City Hall so everyone could get back to work a little quicker. And definitely no ambassadors."

Maes snickered. "Careful, Ed, you sound like you're talking about a _wedding_. You and Roy reached some kind of understanding over dinner that I should know about? Should I start drafting a press release? You know it's always best to take the bull by the horns when it comes to managing the press. Oh, and if you need the name of a good jeweller…although if I were you, I'd let Roy handle it, he's got impeccable taste in that sort of thing…."

The fulminating glare he got was priceless. Oh, for a camera when you needed one! "Why is my private life suddenly everyone's favourite topic of conversation?"

"It's not private if it's on the cover of every major newspaper," Maes pointed out smugly. "Fetching photograph in the Central Times, by the way, they really got your good side, and Roy looks so earnest as he's holding your hand. As to your question…if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it would be because the two most eligible bachelors have decided to finally get serious – with each other. Ah, the sound of shattering hearts all over Amestris!" He clasped his hands dramatically over his heart, peeking at Ed out of the corner of his eye to make sure the alchemist wasn't about to blow anything up.

No sound yet. Rigid posture, but hands not moving anywhere near each other. Of course, the fact that one of them was occupied with holding on to a massive leatherbound copy of the Constitution might have something to do with it. Definite tic under the left eye though. "Um, Ed…."

"Don't. Say. Anything. Else."

Brigadier General Maes Hughes turned back to his inspection, biting the inside of his cheek to keep a stupid grin from spreading over his face. They could see the official car bringing Roy Mustang turning a corner in the distance – it would be here in a minute or so – and even if they hadn't had a good view from their vantage point, the roars of approval and joy coming from the crowd would have let them know of the approach. For security purposes, Ed had insisted that the parade route be kept a little shorter than usual, and Roy had acquiesced with surprising readiness. Perhaps his little lecture about their respective responsibilities in his living room had had some lasting effects after all? He snuck a glance at the alchemist again, who appeared to be relaxing a little as his golden eyes followed the car's excrutiatingly slow progress towards them, hesitated, then spoke up again, the teasing note gone from his voice. "Roy loves you, you know - he wouldn't be so willing to put himself on public display like that otherwise. He's always been a masterful manipulator of the press…they see what he wants them to see. But this is his – and your – private life, so for him to do that says something about how he feels – it's his way of showing instead of telling. Roy's not always good at saying things…um…in the most _direct_ manner."

A sardonic snort.

Maes pouted. "Well, you're a State Alchemist too, you shouldn't talk!" That earned him a growl – how Ed was able to communicate without actually having to verbalize, Maes would never understand – and he sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to interfere or anything, but Roy's my closest friend, and you know I've always felt, um, paternal about you and Al…he hurt a lot while you were gone…I guess, I'm just trying to say that I just want you two to be happy…oh hell…." Maes trailed off. Roy's car pulled up to the foot of the stairs and a wave of cheers greeted the Fuhrer-elect as he stepped out of the car and graciously acknowledged the crowd, before slowly putting his foot on the first stair and beginning the slow climb. Flashes were going off left and right as the honour guard lining Roy's path snapped to attention with a thumping of boots and the sharp slap of gloved hands on rifles. The Brigadier straightened up, lifting his chin proudly as he watched his old friend's progress towards them.

He jumped when Ed's husky baritone spoke softly beside him. "I know. And we are. And I love him too. Don't worry about us, Maes." The Fullmetal Alchemist stood braced into the sudden wind that ruffled his bangs and made the flags and banners about them snap sharply, his hair glittering in the sunlight. He looked rather like some kind of angel, Maes thought dazedly, not the fluffy cherubic pink sort that Alicia was, undoubtedly, but perhaps one of those ones with swords and flames – what were they, seraphim? Archangels? Something like that. And then all notion of angelic behaviour was dispelled as the blonde turned towards him with a malicious glint in his eyes. "Although…if Roy's coming to me, does that make him the bride? And does this mean I get a long honeymoon _alone_ with him afterwards? Because I do have some leave coming…."

Maes spluttered as Roy came to stand before them, giving his closest friend and his lover a very odd look. Ed met it innocently for a moment before his eyes flicked over to a point past Roy's shoulder as Maes raised a shaking arm in salute, his lips pressed tightly together to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles. One corner of Roy's mouth twitched as he returned the gesture. "Brigadier. Colonel."

"Sir?"

"Is there something amusing you wish to share with me?"

"No sir. This way." Maes gestured grandly. Ed abruptly cocked his head in a very unmilitary-like fashion and Maes sighed internally. They had been doing so well with getting Ed to cooperate with military protocol up to this point!

"Hey, bastard Colonel?"

A momentary look of surprise at the sudden…intimate…form of address. "Yes, Fullmetal?"

"Duck." And then Ed was pushing Roy's head down and aside with one hand, body twisting gracefully as his other arm reached back, came forward and up in a neat arc…and hurled the heavy copy of the Constitution at a photographer who had suddenly pushed past the press line. The book's ornate clasp kept it shut as it flew through the air like an oblong discus, knocking the man backwards. The camera he had been holding flew out of his hands and shattered on the steps amidst gasps of shock and horror, the casing breaking apart to reveal a hidden gun mechanism within, and a scuffle promptly ensued as the honour guard broke ranks and converged on the hapless would-be assassin.

As Roy straightened up, tugging on his rumpled jacket and trying to discreetly neaten his hair, he caught sight of a delighted Ling Yao mouthing words at a disgruntled looking Fullmetal Alchemist as he jabbed a finger towards the melee on the steps. Something about punishing evil…loyalty…king…and what on earth was a _qilin_?

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Ed muttered, and Roy realized he must have said that last bit out loud.

Maes was running his fingers through his hair. "I cannot believe this is happening. And it was going so…so…perfe…."

"Will you please stop saying that?" Ed griped. "Besides, there's _always_ a nut at this sort of public spectacle who either wants to kill someone or make some pathetically soppy statement of their affections in front of thousands of people. Which is why that private ceremony I was talking about would have been so much better. Remind me to tell you about the time Alp and I had to take care of some idiot who decided that a coronation would be the right time to proclaim her undying love for the prince of some stupid kingdom…stark naked."

Roy looked like he was considering the merits of such an event occurring, but quickly wiped his face clean of all but the faintest of smirks as Ed glared at him meaningfully. In the awkward silence that followed, one of the soldiers ran up hesitantly with the book Ed had hurled, and the alchemist accepted it absently, dusting it off carelessly against the leg of his pants. There was a rip in the smooth leather of its binding, but it appeared otherwise unharmed.

"Whatever happened to the boy who couldn't treat books with enough respect?" Maes sighed.

Ed shrugged in a show of elaborate indifference. "He grew up and realized there were other things that mattered too. Besides, it's not it's an alchemy text – those are at least _useful_. And _forgive_ _me_ for trying to save our _Fuhrer's_ life, but I couldn't exactly reach any of my weapons while hanging on to this thing, could I? Now can we please get on with it? Some of us actually have places to be, you know."

"Of course," Roy said with suspicious calm for a man who had just escaped being shot in the back. Again. "Just one thing though, Fullmetal."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Yes?"

"Given your spotty history when it comes to following regulations…I cannot believe you just threw the book at someone."

"Shut up, bastard."

* * *

Yes, this day was definitely deteriorating ever more rapidly, in the Fullmetal Alchemist's opinion.

"I cannot believe you're coming to me with this," Ed muttered, rubbing his forehead tiredly. His hair was a mess of flaxen tangles that were clearly the product of having agitated fingers run through it one too many times. "You do realize I'm more than a decade your junior, right?"

"Yes."

"And was orphaned at a very young age, performed human transmutation, spent most of my youth running around searching for a way to reverse its effects, never really had time to delve into the arcana of social norms and niceties."

"Yes."

"And have no experience with the happy state you hope to enter into eventually, nor its attendant familial obligations. That's Al's thing."

"Yes."

"And am currently involved in a relationship that is unlikely to ever reach said happy state, despite an abundance of commitment."

"Yes."

"And have never, in anyone's wildest dreams, been heralded as the epitome of grace, tact and subtlety?"

"Yes."

Ed sighed with exaggerated patience. "Then let me put it very bluntly: why are you asking me for advice on how to proceed with your love life again?"

Jean Havoc shuffled his feet awkwardly, wishing he could sink into the floor. "Well…you're my commanding officer…and I trust you…and you've known the both of us for years…and you were really the one who brought us together…I don't want to ask Hughes, he gushes too much…and I can't ask the _Fuhrer_!" He glared at the corner of the desk, not wanting to meet the disbelieving tawny stare. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, coming to Ed with his concerns about the way Riza was behaving after her parents had arrived for the inauguration, given that Auric had been a somewhat sympathetic and surprisingly helpful ear before, but Havoc was just now realizing that the combination of Auric's sarcasm and coolly watchful restraint, and Ed's frighteningly keen mind and mercurial temperament, was every bit as terrifying as the Fuhrer in one of his more acidulous moods.

"Roy isn't going to stop being your friend because he's now Fuhrer, Jean," Ed reasoned as calmly as his pounding headache would let him. All he wanted right now was to finish going over the evening's security protocols, hopefully in time to catch a quick catnap back in the BOQ before the inauguration ball. His mess dress hung behind his office door in a canvas suitbag that Maes had gleefully dropped it off earlier. At least he didn't have to worry about the uniform not fitting – the man was too much of a perfectionist to allow that to happen. "And he's far more familiar with the ins and outs of polite society – he's even met Hawkeye's parents before, he'll know how to bring them around. This is Roy Mustang, Master of Manipulation that we're talking about, remember?"

"It's not that," scoffed the lanky Captain. His fingers twitched hopefully towards the crumpled cigarette pack in his pocket, but the glower from the petite blonde whose desk he stood before immediately put paid to that idea. "He'll…he's…he…."

"…has much more experience in these matters than I do," Ed said firmly, as if that put an end to it. His subordinate fidgeted miserably.

"He's the man who stole every girlfriend I ever had! And laughed about it!"

Ed rolled his eyes. "Had you gone on more than one date with any of these women, Jean? And did he actually woo them away or did they simply drop you for him?"

"No, but…oh, come on, Chief, have a heart! You understand, don't you? Riza's just been…distant, since we picked the old Baron up at the station last night. She won't even look at me, like she's ashamed of herself…of us…" and he trailed off, his legs starting to wobble. "Oh lord, she's…she's ashamed of me. She's nobility and I'm noth…."

"Sit!" came the barked order, and Havoc sat, or fell, rather, into the chair that Ed shoved his way. "And if you're going to waste my time with this stuff, Captain, at least have the decency to look at me." Havoc looked up mutely into golden eyes that managed to be simultaneously irritated and compassionate. The Fullmetal Alchemist sat forward in his chair, stabbing an index finger pointedly at his nominal subordinate. "Listen very closely, because I'm only going to say this one more time. Hawkeye. Chose. You. Because she sees something in you. Because you see something in her. Because by being near each other, you make each other better people. You just have to be there for her and show a little faith in her ability to make her own decisions. And frankly Jean, the only person you can make you feel like you're nothing is yourself. Did it ever occur to you that she might be picking up on your own ambivalence about meeting her parents?"

"Easy for you to say," mumbled Havoc, although he felt a little better. The Boss radiated conviction, and anyone who had ever been on the receiving end of one of Ed's forceful diatribes knew it was useless to resist the blonde when he got that set to his jaw. Was this really the cocky little kid who had turned up on the steps of Central all those years ago? Back then he had thought the kid merely another pawn in Mustang's games, a little toy to be shown off, but he had very quickly learned who Edward Elric was – they all had. And then a teenager had disappeared – and a man had been returned to them.

"Yes, it is," agreed Ed testily, jutting his jaw out in a manner that confirmed all of Havoc's musings. "But very tiresome to have to repeat over and over - I'm not as patient as Auric. So if you come to me mooning about like a lovesick cow one more time, I'll transmute you inside out and into next week. Are we clear on that? Now grow a spine, get your mess dress on and go win your girl. But you will remember to get your butt over to the inauguration pavilion and supervise the final security sweep, won't you, _Captain_?" and just like that, Ed had gone from friend back to superior officer. Havoc jumped as the young Lieutenant Colonel abruptly turned back to his paperwork muttering something under his breath about idiot older people who clearly needed their heads knocked together, and how he didn't have time for this right now, and it would just figure that the bastard Colonel would find _some_ way of ensuring that Havoc wouldn't think to approach him with such petty problems, go get himself made Fuhrer just to escape this sort of….

"Well, technically _you_ made him Fuhrer, Boss," Havoc offered incautiously, immediately regretting it as Ed looked up and fixed him with a baleful glare. "You know, with the swearing-in and all." Damn, the Boss was starting to turn red. "_Great_ ceremony, by the way, you look _really_ good in uniform – um, don't tell Roy I said that – and that thing with the book, great aim…."

He winced as a sharp slap echoed around Ed's office, cracked open an eye and sighed in relief as he realized the sound had come from Ed slamming his open palm on the table. "_Out_." The feral glint in Ed's eyes promised that the next time the sound was heard, impressive feats of alchemy on Havoc's person would be involved.

"Yes, sir! Going, sir!" and Havoc fled before the blonde alchemist finally snapped and decided to transmute him into a turnip or something equally horrible. Riza's father would not be impressed to have his daughter being courted by a literal hayseed.

* * *

Oh for the love of Flamel…would he ever get out of this office and to that damned ball? Not that he enjoyed that sort of thing, but _Roy_ would be there and he had gotten to spend time with the man at all today, apart from their brief interactions in purely official capacities. Ed groaned at the irony of it all – he'd spent weeks running from Roy, and then when he finally had things figured out, the universe appeared to be conspiring to keep them apart!

"Come on, Ed. Blue, or pink? The blue goes well with Al's uniform, but I do like pink…" Winry Rockbell Elric wheedled as she held up two dresses that appeared utterly identical in Ed's eyes. They were both long, with sleeves that fluttered and draped, fitted and pastel. _Pastel._ He briefly considered claiming colorblindness.

"Winry. Where are we right now?" Ed put his pen down very, very slowly, because if he didn't, he would probably fling it at his childhood friend, and that would result in flying metal objects, bruising, and general mayhem, and he didn't think a black eye would go well with mess dress at all.

His unannounced guest glared. "Your office, obviously. Stop being facetious and answer me!"

"Exactly. _My_ office. _Why_ are you here?" Ed implored tiredly as he rubbed his temples. Did he have a sign on the door saying 'Edward Elric: Therapist, Consultant and All-Around Problem-Solver'? It was the only viable explanation for why all and sundry appeared to think he was the right person to approach with their issues. Fury earlier this morning, Havoc, a couple of young Lieutenants who had wanted advice on how to behave at the ball – and why on earth they would think that _Ed_ of all people would know was beyond his own understanding – and now his sister-in-law. If this was what becoming a Colonel did to you, Roy could keep his damn promotions to himself, thank you very much. He wondered briefly if Mustang had had to cope with similar issues back in the day, and a corner of his mouth twitched up as he realized that Roy had had the additional complication of coping with a certain youngest-ever-State-Alchemist with a famously bad temper.

Ah, the good old days. When all he had to worry about was fixing Al's body. No petty squabbles, no sappy lovesick subordinates, no pesky reporters…if he got one more request for a public statement on his relationship with the Flame Alchemist, he would scream. His phone was currently off the hook for that very reason.

"Because I need help with my dress! Which one should I wear?" Winry's pleas broke into his musings and he sighed, striving to remain patient. He'd spared even Jean Havoc a few minutes after all, he supposed she was entitled to the same.

"Winry. Why are you asking _me_ about your _dress_, and why aren't you asking _Al_ given that he was the one idiotic…I mean, lucky enough to marry you in the first place? Why are you delaying me from getting to a ball that takes place in," Ed pulled out his pocket watch, "less than an hour, and for which I'm not even ready?"

"Because it's supposed to be a surprise, you jerk," Winry huffed. "You know I'm meeting Al at the door since he's already there. And besides, if you're really…um…with General Mustang – which I _still _cannot believe you didn't tell me about sooner, by the way – surely _some_ of his taste must have rubbed off?" She blushed at Ed's look of mingled horror and incredulity. "What? He does have a good eye for this sort of thing. Then again," and she eyed Ed's unbuttoned and rumpled uniform jacket, a pair of ink-stained gloves peeking out of one of the pockets, the carelessly rolled up sleeves and hair sticking up every which way, "if he has rubbed off, it's certainly not showing."

Golden eyes flicked up to meet hers and she sucked in a breath at the keen hint of amusement that sparkled in them, the expression simultaneously that of a stranger's and yet somehow Ed's. "Of course not. I did shower this morning at Roy's before leaving, you know."

"Ick. Ick! Edward Elric, you get your mind out of the gutter right now!" Winry all but shrieked as the insinuation sank in. "Al may be okay with you and the General, and I guess I am too, but I do _not _need to know the details! Oh, he's obviously a bad influence on you!" She was flaming red, her eyes darting nervously around as she waved a hand vigorously before her face as if trying to erase an image from the slate of her mind. "You're never babysitting Winnie again!"

"You started it." Again that strange swing from extreme to extreme, from adult to petulant child, all in an instant. Ed buried his face in his hands. He was so very tired. "Winry, please. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to be. My head hurts. It's been a long day. And I'm expected at a ball I don't want to attend wearing clothes I don't want to wear, where I'll have to talk to people I _don't_ want to talk to just to see the one person I _do_ want to see. Not that I don't want to see you and Al, of course," he tacked on hurriedly – you never knew where Winry might be hiding her wrenches. He knew he sounded whiny and forlorn, but this was Winry – she'd seen him at his worst - and frankly, right now…he didn't really care. He felt beleaguered, bothered and bewildered, all at once, and for the first time in a very long time, he wished he had a mother to turn to. This being an adult thing was hard, especially when part of you still thought it was only sixteen instead of twenty. But then again, he thought wryly as he scrubbed his face wearily with the heels of his hands, had he ever really been a child?

Winry looked at her brother-in-law in surprise. While she was familiar with Ed's occasional bouts of melodrama, this was different. This was Edward Elric, the boy who had cut off his own arm to bind his brother's soul, who had been fitted for automail at eleven without making a sound despite the fact that the procedure generally reduced grown men to cursing, crying lumps of quivering agony, the teenager who had sacrificed himself without thinking to bring his brother back, the man who had, by all accounts, _died_ and essentially risen from his own dust and ashes. He was one of the strongest and most stoic people she knew, even if she'd always found it incredibly frustrating when he would refuse to tell her what was going on in that pretty head of his, and to have him admit to feeling less than completely up to snuff was…well…frightening. She wondered briefly why he hadn't chosen to do this in front of Al instead, before realizing that Ed would always insist on being strong in front of Al because he was the _older_ brother. Winry, on the other hand, was a friend who'd seen him at his weakest – and she felt a strange secret pride in the knowledge that there was something she could do for him that Al could not. The awkward barrier that had existed between them began to crumble as she hesitantly reached out to her friend for the first time since his miraculous return.

"Ed…talk to me. Please." In the light of the setting sun streaming in through the window, and in spite of the elaborate chignon and carefully made-up face, Winry suddenly looked fourteen again, just his old playmate and friend, her blue eyes softening as she carefully set aside the dresses over a nearby chair and reached for his hands, coming around the desk and taking them in hers as she knelt by his chair. "What's really bothering you? Did you fight with Roy? Or Al?"

Ed pressed his lips together, and for an instant Winry thought he was going to snatch his hands back and snap at her. But then he seemed to sag a little as he shook his head. She reached out tentatively and smoothed down his cowlick as she thought about what else could be bothering her friend. "If you're not feeling well, Ed, I'm sure Roy would understand if you didn't attend, or left early. You could use my room at the inn, it's got to be nicer than sleeping in the BOQ."

"No, I can't do that - I promised I would be there," was the quiet reply. "I'm all right, Winry…it's just…everything seems to be moving so quickly, you know? So much to do…and I try to be on top of it all, but sometimes it's just so _fucking_ hard," and for once the blonde woman didn't say anything about his language, just nodded wisely and continued to listen. "It's funny, I can deal with…with death, and war and pain, but it's just the little things that wear at you, you know? All these people coming to me with petty little problems, the constant harassment by the press – how the hell does Roy deal with it? And this is just one day, and I'm already tired…and all I want to do is curl up and rest in Roy's arms and not be the one always watching out for things, always on the alert, always the strong one people turn to for help…but I can't do that, he doesn't need one more thing to worry about." He made a faintly disgruntled noise and wrinkled his nose at himself. "This is stupid. I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist, and here I am whining like a child."

"Everyone does from time to time. And I think he probably worries about you regardless, Ed," Winry pointed out pragmatically. "So you might as well take advantage of it and let yourself lean on him."

"I don't want to be weak in front of him, WInry," Ed shrugged. "Forget it, I'm just being stupid. It's just…last night was the first time we'd been able to spend time together since my…um…return. And then we've been so busy all of today, and even when we're in the same room, he's so careful and proper and distant somehow, and I know we have to be for propriety's sake, but…." He sighed, his brow darkening. "I know I told him to quit with the blatant innuendos, but a little reassurance in public wouldn't hurt either, and it would keep some of the creeps away." A sheepish look crossed his face as he shook his head despairingly at himself. "Fuck, I sound like such a girl."

Winry narrowed her eyes, thought about that for all of half a second, then let of Ed's hands, brought one small fist back and punched him on the arm. Hard.

"What the hell was that for?" snarled Ed as he jerked away. "For crying out loud, Winry…."

"No, you listen to me, you…you…_moron_," Winry snapped, and the tone in her voice was sharp as the crack of a whip. She looks almost like Teacher Izumi right now, Ed thought dazedly. "That's what's bothering you? For a genius, Edward Elric, you really can be incredibly stupid sometimes. Isn't it obvious what he's doing for you? You know he's one who would rather let actions speak for him."

Ed blinked. "Winry…." For someone who hadn't seemed entirely convinced about the appropriateness of Roy and Ed's relationship, she was a little…too much on Roy's side.

"I'm not done yet!" and Ed promptly shut his mouth again – he had the feeling that anything else would only prolong the pain. Well, he'd wished for _a_ mother…perhaps he should have been more specific, he thought, as a finger waggled itself in his line of vision. "You're the one who's been making a fuss about your private life being splashed across the front page of every newspaper from here to Xing! Don't you think he knows how much you hate it? He's being discreet because he thinks that's what you want from him."

"That _is_ what I want from him!" Ed muttered defensively. Well, it was. Wasn't it?

"Right," Winry drawled, managing to raise a skeptical brow that would have given Mustang a run for his money. "That's why you're sitting here in a state of self-pitying martydom sulking. For goodness sakes, Ed, if you love him and he loves you, there's nothing wrong in letting others around you share in the joy. The papers only fuss because you make it seem like it _is_ a big deal to see the two of you together – they'll get sick of it soon enough. You've always been good at going out and _getting_ what you want, so if you want him to pay attention to you in public, show him that you don't mind it! Get out of that chair, get dressed and let's _go_ to the damn ball, where you are going to knock his socks off and make him remember that you're the _Fullmetal Alchemist_ and the love that he waited four years for, and that you deserve to be adored by him and to have everyone know that you are. If I know our Fuhrer, he's only waiting for a signal to sweep you off your feet, so give it to him!" and her scowl as she ranted was positively Elric, if only by marriage. "Men! You may have brains, but when it comes to matters of the heart, you're all a bunch of numbskulls."

Stunned aureate eyes met blazing blue ones. "I…um…." Ed ran his hand though his hair again, suddenly at a loss for words, and Winry rolled her eyes.

"Stop doing that! Here, let me," and she fished a comb out from somewhere on her person, standing up and moving behind him. Ed tensed warily, but allowed her to undo the ribbon that held his hair back. He could hear the wistful smile in Winry's voice as she began to pick out the tangles in his mane, the care with which she worked a soothing balm to his weary soul. They had always expressed their affection for each other in deeds rather than in words, from the birthday toys he and Al had transmuted for her as children to the obsessive attention she had devoted to his automail limbs when he had needed them. She seemed to be lost in similar reminiscences, because the next thing she said was, "Do you remember how I used to braid your hair for you when you were first fitted with automail?"

"Yes…you said you couldn't stand looking at the bird's nest on my head any longer," came the soft laugh. "I refused at first, said it was too girly. But then I got used to it, and Al said he liked it better long, so I never got around to cutting it off. And then whenever we were staying with you and Granny Pinako, you'd braid my hair before we left. I used to wait for as long as possible before taking it down, you know?"

A small sound of amusement. "That's sweet. Unfortunately, I suppose it'll have to be a ponytail now," she sighed regretfully. "It'll look really good with your mess dress though," and deft fingers used to picking through the minute delicate components of automail swiftly gathered his shining locks into a neat handful and tied it off. "There, you'll be the envy of every man – and woman – at this thing. Now go wash your face and get dressed. Since you've kept me here this long, you can escort me to the pavilion." She made to move away, but Ed reached up and caught her arm gently.

"Thanks, Winry. For always being there. For keeping my head on straight," and the emotion in Ed's voice made the blonde woman tear up and punch him furiously on the shoulder again.

"Look what you did, you idiot, you're making me cry and ruining my makeup!" She dabbed at her eyes carefully with her fingertips. "Now come on, you never did give me an answer. Pink, or blue?"

Ed groaned.


	35. Family

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Hi all! Sorry about the delay in updating - life got away from me for a bit. I'm still wrestling it back under control, but I had to find the time to get this next chapter out after all the lovely, supportive reviews I got on the last one – thank you all so much! You kept me afloat through a very difficult period, and I hope this next chapter lives up to all your expectations – I assure you that I'm already working on my knitting of the next one. I was quite surprised that what many people responded to most the last go around was Ed and Winry's little conversation, but I'm so glad that there are other people out there who see their relationship in much the same way that I do. Who better than her to smack a little sense into Ed's head so that we can get to the shamelessly mushy public proclamations of undying love and affection?

Okay, get real. That last bit's never happening in this AU of mine. First of all, Auric would have hives. Secondly, it wouldn't be terribly in character for either Ed or Roy. Any statements of affection in public are likely to be short, sweet, and cloaked in banter. They're men of action when it comes to their personal lives, remember, and words and secrets are only spoken openly between the two of them, certainly not in public and _never_ in front of Ling. But we can do a lot with that, believe me! If not in this chapter, then in the next. Much love (and please do leave a review if so inclined; I'm back to answering them personally now that life has calmed down a bit!) – NF.

* * *

**_Chapter 35: Family_**

Major Alphonse Elric rocked himself nervously forward on his toes, then back on his heels, his leather dress shoes making a satisfying crackle on the gravel driveway that curved gracefully around the massive geodesic dome that served as the inauguration pavilion. He had designed it together with Ed, the brothers falling into their usual easy rhythm of teamwork: Ed dreaming up the basic structure in a flash of inspiration before wandering off leaving Al methodically working through how it could be done most efficiently; Al fiddling with the details that turned aesthetics into art and good enough into genius while Ed fretted over issues of speed, security and structural safety. Nothing like it had ever been done before, but judging from the impressed murmurs of the guests as they arrived and passed through into the soaring interior, they were going to see many copies of their design before long. Oh well, an alchemist was supposed to serve the people.

_Just _in case though, he'd already registered the basic form in the name of the Fullmetal and Earth Moving Alchemists to ensure they received the royalties they were entitled to. Integrity of State Alchemist research and all that, and anyway, it was his job to take care of this sort of thing since it would never actually occur to Ed. That was why they made such a good team, he thought fondly, though there were times he felt like the older brother. Speaking of which…said older brother was late. As was Winry. He was about to start pacing when an official car pulled up and out they tumbled, slightly out of breath. Al turned to greet them and felt his own breath catch in his throat at the sight of his wife, her cerulean eyes sparkling and her winsome face framed by a few dangling curls, the rest of her hair pulled back into an elegant upsweep.

Ed grinned knowingly at the young couple, his eyes soft with affection. "Hey Al. Brought you your wife – sorry we're late but _someone_ couldn't decide which dress to wear, and then she wouldn't stop fussing over my uniform. _Please_ take her before I strangle her. And remember," he hissed in a stage whisper, "you like her better in blue and no, it does not make her look fat."

Al laughed and offered his blue-clad wife his arm, which she took after pointedly smacking Ed upside the head. "Ready? I saw Major Hawkeye go in a couple of minutes ago, she mentioned that she was looking forward to catching up with you, Winry. Coming in with us, brother?"

Ed and Winry smiled toothily, and Al eyed the two blondes dubiously – those grins had never boded well in the past, and he didn't think they did now. His wife tugged meaningfully at his sleeve. "Come on, Al. Ed needs to make an entrance. Alone."

"Why?" Al asked, puzzled. "Winry, you know Ed hates attention, and anyway, who does he need to impress? Everyone's impressed enough as it is! There are hordes of photographers in there waiting to get a photo of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist."

His brother colored and kicked a hapless pebble viciously, and Winry smirked. "Excellent."

* * *

Jean Havoc ran a finger around the stiff high collar of his mess dress. As a concession to her parents, Riza had opted to arrive with them, and so he was stuck playing the waiting escort. Gay laughter swirled about him as guests moved easily through the many rooms within the dome, all of them radiating off the central large room that was the focus of the pavilion and from which one could look straight up and see the vaulted interior of the massive curved ceiling rising far above. Everyone seemed inordinately pleased and happy and at ease, and it was making him feel increasingly miserable. He felt horribly out of place in this grand gathering, and not for the first time, he envied Roy Mustang his easy social graces with all his heart. 

"Stop fidgeting, Jean. And the collar would be a little less uncomfortable if you would stop slouching." Speak of the devil.

"Geez, Roy – uh, I mean, Fuhrer Mustang, sir – way to scare a man out of his skin!"

The dark-haired man who had suddenly materialized by his shoulder arched a brow elegantly and folded his hands neatly behind his back, which was held straight but relaxed – he certainly seemed comfortable enough. "As long as you stay _in_ your uniform – I don't want to be stuck explaining your nakedness to Baron Hawkeye. Square those shoulders, man, this is a military ball, not a bar."

Feeling as though he were on parade and under review, Jean opened his mouth, then shut it again with an audible click. Regardless of the boss's conviction that Roy was still his friend, this _was_ the de facto ruler of Amestris he was speaking to, and if the passage of time and his long service in the military had taught him anything, it was that it was always safest to hold one's tongue in public. Perhaps Riza was rubbing off on him. "Yes, sir."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "It's just friendly advice for making a good impression on Riza's parents, Jean. We're speaking as friends. You can call me by name, you know."

"Yes, sir…I mean, Roy. Sir. Ah, hell." His mouth just wasn't cooperating. Perhaps the copious amounts of champagne he had downed in an attempt to calm his nerves had been a bad idea? Gods, he could use a smoke.

A flicker of amusement rose in Roy's eyes. "Riza really has you trained. Is she here yet?"

"No." A terse reply, but Roy didn't seem to take offence at it. Havoc could see numerous important personages hovering around the military pair, obviously trying to attract the notice of the Fuhrer, but Roy seemed to be oblivious. Which meant, knowing Roy, that he was deliberately ignoring them to make a point.

"The Baron always was one to arrive 'fashionably late'." Havoc snuck a quick glance at his superior officer, who was now carefully not looking at Jean. He was wearing a wry smile that made the younger man recall late-night drinking sessions, their jackets thrown carelessly over the backs of chairs, sleeves rolled up and cards laid out before them as Hughes teased Mustang about his romantic dalliances and Armstrong babbled on about some family tradition and Riza rolled her eyes and laid out her winning hand, and he suddenly realized that Mustang was trying to show him that he, Jean Havoc, was still someone of importance in his life. Someone the Fuhrer would pay attention to over others. Someone he considered a friend. He gaped dumbly, and Roy politely ignored that too, as he continued, "He has some misguided notions stuck in that thick skull of his, but he's actually all right once you get to know him. Riza's his only daughter; he tends to be a little protective. Just treat her well and demonstrate what an…outstanding young man you are, and he'll come around. And if not…."

"If not?" Havoc's voice was very quiet, and Roy seemed to notice, because he finally looked him in the eyes. Jean could almost feel the surge of confidence the man was able to project to his subordinates – he would swear he could feel his spine stiffening under that midnight gaze. The Fuhrer finally nodded and allowed his gaze to drift past Jean's shoulder.

"It's a terrible thing for a noble to be in the Fuhrer's bad books," Roy drawled finally. "Wouldn't you agree, Baron? Tends to lead to all sorts of unfortunate accidents with the estate."

Havoc whirled around, his heart leaping into his mouth at the sight of the Baron and Baroness Hawkeye. Riza stood slightly behind them like a dutiful daughter, but rather than the voluminous yards of chiffon and lace the other women in the hall were wearing, she was dressed in mess dress, a cropped jacket, red sash and long dark skirt that should have been lost amidst the finery, but which instead made her hourglass figure standout all the more. Her medals and ribbons were pinned proudly to her chest, and as their eyes met and her small chin came up determinedly, he knew she had chosen to wear her uniform to the ball rather than the optional civilian gown female officers were allowed to remind her parents of where her choices and her loyalties lay. And in that instant, he loved her more than ever.

The Baron snorted, and Jean had to admire his composure in the face of a smirking Roy Mustang; greater men had quailed before that feline gaze. "Fuhrer Mustang. My…congratulations on your promotion." The portly man looked like he wanted to say something else, but Roy stopped any further words with the barest quirk of a brow.

"Thank you. Might I present one of my longest-serving and most trusted subordinates, Captain Jean Havoc?" Though phrased as a question, it was obviously a statement that brooked no opposition, and the Baron knew it.

"Thank you; we have met. Captain Havoc."

"Baron, Baroness, it is good to see you again," Havoc managed, bowing over the Baroness's glove, proud that he wasn't stuttering with surprise at the Baron's conciliatory tones. His mother had always taught him to be polite to his elders, and that ingrained courtesy was something he knew he could lean on without conscious thought. "Major Hawkeye."

Riza smiled. "Jean," and the use of his first name made him start and look into those laughing auburn eyes. "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"

"I…of course," he said hesitantly, shooting a quick look at the Baron, who returned it with an impassive one of his own. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

"Father?" Riza asked demurely.

The graying man harrumphed noisily. "Well, go on then, child. Spend some time with your young man. You treat her like the lady that she is now, you hear?"

Jean nodded, dumbfounded, and offered his arm to Riza, who smiled graciously in response and took it. As he led her into the line forming for the next dance, he was still shaking his head bewilderedly, and she must have noticed, because her next words were, "I had a talk with Father. He understands, Jean." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Of course, it did help to see you talking so intimately with our new Fuhrer. Father's not stupid – he recognizes power when he sees it, even if it does take some yelling to beat it into his head. The old titles of nobility are starting to lose their luster, even for those who still possess them."

"You asked Roy to do that?" Havoc flushed. He should have known Roy was using his influence for Riza's benefit.

Riza rolled her eyes. "Please. Roy's not an idiot, and he's known my family for years. And since when have I ever been able to get him to do anything without holding a gun on him? Anything he did, he did out of concern for you. For _us_," and with that she rested her head on his shoulder lightly. "He may be Fuhrer now, but he's still our friend, Jean."

Jean turned and looked back at the tall figure of the new Fuhrer. Roy simply smiled through his lashes at them, one of his rare unguarded smiles that could light up a room with its warmth, then turned away to speak to the Baron and Baroness. How he could ever have doubted the man, Jean didn't know, but he vowed that never again would he listen to his demons of insecurity. He was here, and Riza was here, and they had good friends who cared about them and watched over them. That made them family, didn't it?

He felt like the luckiest man in all the world.

"Yes. Yes, he is."

* * *

"The Earth Moving Alchemist and wife, Major and Mrs. Alphonse Elric!" 

Roy's attention was drawn by the announcement which rang out over the strains of the orchestra and the muted clinking of glasses and general gaiety of his guests. He excused himself politely from speaking to the Duchess of Baden-Baden, who seemed intent on presenting her daughter to him. The young lady was personable enough, an accomplished equestrian who bore an unfortunate resemblance to the horses she rode, and she smiled apologetically as she dropped him a curtsey – it wasn't her fault her mother seemed determined on denying the fact that Roy had absolutely no interest in having yet another potential partner foisted upon him. He was quite happy with his choice, even if said choice was a skittish, temperamental, fiery blonde with an ego all out of proportion to his actual physical size, and who hadn't given any indication one way or another that he would be comfortable being thought of in that manner, and who might not have yet quite realized that he was – or would be in time – regarded in that manner by everyone. The Fuhrer sighed.

He and Maes had a bet riding on what Ed would do to the first person to call him Consort to his face.

It had taken a good deal of determination to keep his hands off his young lover most of the day, but Roy was willing to put his considerable willpower to work on the issue if it would keep Ed happy, although that resolve had been sorely tested after the annoying Ambassador from Xing had…well, he still wasn't entirely sure what had transpired between the two, but Ed had seemed to welcome Roy's none-too-subtle assertion of territorial dominance. His eyes narrowed at the memory and he scanned the crowd for Ling Yao, finally spotting the brightly dressed young man swirling around the floor delightedly in a brocaded swish of bright yellow, seemingly preoccupied with his dance partner, much to Roy's satisfaction – it would seem that assigning Maria Ross to chaperone the ambassador had been a good idea. That taken care of, he continued on his previously appointed task to find and greet the Elrics.

Winry spotted him first, and she nudged Alphonse, who turned and lifted a gloved hand in greeting. Roy wondered absently which array the young alchemist had chosen – mess dress for State Alchemists included their signature white gloves with a difference: the gloves were marked with a favored array to differentiate them from the white dancing gloves the other attendees would be wearing with their white-tie. He smiled pleasantly at the young couple as he made his way towards them, the crowd parting respectfully for its new Fuhrer.

"Fuhrer," Al greeted respectfully.

"After all we've been through, Alphonse, you can call me Roy," the Fuhrer smiled wryly. "At least at social functions. Have you seen your brother?"

Winry snorted. "To the point, aren't we? What are we, chopped liver? We're practically family. We should be able to call you whatever the hell we want whenever we want."

"Good point," mused Roy. "Automail-freak."

"Stuck-up military dog. Just for that, I'm not telling you where Ed is – and neither are you, Al!" Winry grumbled as she tugged her husband towards the dance floor. Al waved apologetically as they disappeared into the crowd.

Roy watched them go, amused. Just then the guard at the door called out again:

"The Fullmetal Alchemist, Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric!"

The waltz playing was almost drowned out by the rustling of gowns, as those guests not circling the dance floor turned with an expectant air towards the main doors, which swung open with a bang to reveal a slim figure in uniform. Roy blinked at the vision and felt an odd thump beneath his breastbone at the sight of his lover, only just now realizing that he'd half-expected Ed to bail on the ball despite his promise the previous night. A genuine smile tugged at his lips as the Fullmetal Alchemist tilted his head slightly in rueful acknowledgement of his audience and began to make his way slowly down the stairs towards the main floor, pausing every few steps to flash a quick roguish grin through his bangs for the rabid mob of photographers thronging his path as easily as though he had been doing it his whole life.

While Ed's smile lacked its usual brilliance, only those who knew him well would have been able to detect his discomfort in the tension of his shoulders as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets until only a sliver of white glove cuffing the end of his sleeves could be seen. His bright head gleamed in the lambent candlelight reflecting off every polished surface, creating a warmly glowing nimbus about his face that contrasted startlingly with the dark, dark midnight blue of his high-collared mess dress. The short, fitted jacket hugged Ed's trim figure flatteringly, the cutaway front falling smoothly over the crisp white waistcoat that hid the waistband of the long dark pants, which broke perfectly over the black shoes that had been shined to a mirror-like finish. Rank insignias glittered at throat and sleeve as he turned gracefully this way and that, nodding courteously at greetings and politely evading questions with a practiced ease that suggested that Auric was very much the persona in control at the moment, since the Edward Elric of old would have been a seething mess of gritted teeth, flying braid and alchemic energy by now.

Well, the ponytail was still quite fetching, Roy thought firmly, especially when Ed tipped his head just _so_ and he could trace his eyes along the line of the younger man's jaw and follow it all the way up to the tempting fall of lustrous gold. In his admittedly biased opinion, _never_ had a uniform looked quite so good on any person that he could think of - and that included his juvenile fantasies of making all the females in the military wear miniskirts – and then all coherent thoughts flew out of Roy's mind as Ed's gaze swept around the room and settled squarely on Roy. He could feel the heat emanating from those glowing amber eyes and the answering flush in his own face even as he fought to keep his expression under control, meeting Ed's pointed stare evenly and allowing a slow smirk to spread over his face as he inclined his head fractionally in acknowledgement. To his surprise, Ed didn't nod, or smile, or wave. Instead the young alchemist continued to stare levelly at the new Fuhrer, his face oddly expressionless but his heavy-lidded gaze smoldering. Long seconds passed, enough for the rabid press to turn around, realize the object of Ed's focus and begin speculating excitedly about what-this-all-means and could-it-really-be and isn't-it-just-so-romantic and please-tell-me-someone's-getting-a-picture-of-this.

And then, as if he had merely been waiting for the wave of whispering to crest, Ed smiled predatorily, tossed his head and cast one last lingering glance at the Fuhrer before turning sharply on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. Roy stared after him, feeling oddly let down and suddenly chilled from the loss of that burning gaze on him. He stood stock still trying to catch his breath and figure out what the hell had just happened. The smirk on Ed's face had been eerily familiar, although he couldn't quite place it…he frowned, tapping his fingers lightly against his chin and froze as the answer came to him. Of course it was familiar, it was the same expression he'd practiced a thousand times in the mirror. The devil-may-care, rakish curl of lip and glint of eye that brought women and men alike to their knees begging. That expression that said he knew he was desirable and worth a merry chase. That look that said: _if you want me, come and claim me_.

So that was how Ed wanted to play it tonight, was it? It was all very arousing, actually, and he felt a pleasant heat pooling deep within as long-unused instincts stirred and awoke. Roy's dark eyes gleamed. This dog of the military had just scented its prey. The hunt was on.

* * *

Ed feinted left and dodged behind a convenient potted plant. The annoying thing about the soaring dome that Al and he had dreamt up for the inauguration was its lack of interior supporting pillars, which was stunning architecturally, but provided attractive young men intent on escaping the attentions of hordes of desperate young women with few places to hide. He sighed with relief as the earnest looking brunette swept by in a rustle of what appeared to be silk and lace stitched together into some kind of frothy concoction. The only thing frothy he wanted right now was a good, cold stein, which unfortunately wasn't being served at the reception, so he made do with the next best thing, deftly lifting a champagne flute off a passing waiter. The cold fizz on his tongue was simultaneously soothing and refreshing, and he was just beginning to relax again when he bumped into someone passing behind him and turned to apologize, only to have the words die on his lips as he stared up into Roy's eyes. 

Only the face behind them wasn't Roy's face.

Midnight blue eyes, so dark as to appear velvet black by candlelight narrowed and appraised Ed coldly. There were more lines around these eyes though, lines of pain and cruelty and pride and loss. A fiercely curved beak of the nose gave the narrow face a hawkish expression, and lips withered by age drew downwards in a scowl. Streaks of grey at the man's temples gave him a vaguely sinister air that was distinctly out of place in the buoyant atmosphere prevailing.

"So good to know that members of our _fine_ military continue to be esteemed for their good manners when rudely assaulting civilians."

The words were harsh and intended to offend, and had Ed been four years younger he might have taken the bait. But the fact was that he wasn't, and this man had nothing on Roy when Roy wanted to be offensive, so Ed merely inclined his head fractionally in a manner that conceded nothing. "My apologies. I didn't see you there."

The thin lips curled in an unnervingly familiar fashion. "Do you know who I am, boy?"

"No. Should I?" Ed said with a deliberate nonchalance that concealed the lie even as he choked down a reflexive desire to clock the speaker for the implication about his height. Though he had never met the man before, had never even seen a picture, he knew exactly who the older man was – it was written in the depths of his eyes and on the elegance of the bones beneath his skin, in the grace of his stance, powerful and commanding despite his advanced age, and in the air of entitlement he wore about his shoulders despite the shabbiness of the coat that had seen better days. Traits of the high nobility.

Traits at least one of the sons of his blood had inherited.

" '_O tempora! O mores_!' But no doubt the sentiment is lost upon your ill-educated ears. There would have been a time, boy, when I could have had your life for such insolence!" growled the Grand Duke Maximillian St. Just.

Ed rolled his eyes. Amazing. He really _did_ seem to draw the pompous self-important louts like moths to a flame, didn't he? "Oh please. As if _you're_ one to go on about morals," and the aristocrat started. "You don't know me, but I can assure you that my knowledge of the Latin far outstrips yours. Professional hazard. But if it helps you feel better about yourself, hey, who am I to interfere?" He raised his champagne flute in a mocking toast, noting how the Grand Duke's eyes flickered as his gaze fell on the neatly embroidered caduceus and crown on the back of his glove. Al's gloves bore the snake and the cross, lovingly embroidered by a surprisingly deft Winry, and if anyone had thought it odd that two of the most famous State Alchemists had chosen atypical alchemic symbols instead of the usual arrays, no one had been stupid enough to bring it up. "And that's State Alchemist or Colonel to you."

"A dog of the military." The contempt in the harsh voice, wavery with age, was nonetheless clear.

Ed shrugged. "What can I say. A moment of temporary insanity in my youth, you know what it's like when you're young. Oh, wait, I'm sorry – you probably can't remember that far back, can you?" The thought crossed his mind momentarily that he was sounding a lot like Roy in his younger, less guarded days – or had that guard only ever been dropped for Ed? - but he didn't really care. The champagne was going to his head – he hadn't had any dinner – but that was all right, really; the slight haziness made it that much easier to allow Auric's instincts to take over. And as the Gatekeeper was much better at keeping his temper and doing the social thing, Ed thought it was probably for the best.

Even if the man had been a complete and utter asshole, he wasn't _entirely_ sure that Roy would want his father turned into a pillar of salt at his inauguration. Ed had been a Gatekeeper for four years. He'd dealt with warlords and despots, he could deal with a Grand Duke. He would be calm and adult….

"Amazing that they allow children into the military now. Whose bed did you have to warm in order to be promoted this quickly?" drawled St. Just contemptuously.

And perhaps Ed would just forget about the calm and adult bit.

"I earned every _fucking_ thing I've _ever_ gotten in _blood_ and _death_, _asshole_," Ed growled, and the sudden change from indolent young officer to battle-hardened veteran poised for a fight made St. Just step back involuntarily. There was a sound like breaking ice as Ed's grip snapped the thin stem of the glass he was holding, and the Grand Duke's eyes widened as Ed brought his fingers together briefly and mended the glass in a quick crackle of alchemic energy without breaking his stare. Ed sighed to himself - he'd been on the receiving end of enough lectures from Roy about 'The Military Is Not A Bottomless Pit Of Money', 'Budget Balancing And Cost Control' and Roy's all-time favorite, 'You Blew It Up, You're Paying For It' to know it was better for all concerned if Roy never saw the broken glass. "I'd be happy to arrange a demonstration if you like. Although dying is too good for the likes of you. Grand Duke St. Just."

"So you _do_ know who I am," and there was the faintest touch of complacent, smug pride in the time-ravaged face.

"Yeah - the last of a line whose time is past," Ed retorted, and was gratified to see anger leap into the man's face. "It must kill you to be here and see our new Fuhrer and to think of all that could have been if you'd been a better man."

"How dare you!" spluttered the man incoherently, aware of the whispers and of the crowd of spectators starting to form around the duo. The fact that the new Fuhrer was his…bastard was common enough knowledge among the Amestrian elite, but to have the fact flung in his face was unbearable. "I will have your hide for this, Colonel…." He trailed off, realizing that he still didn't know who the enigmatic, fiery young alchemist before him was.

Ed scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. _Please_." All the pent-up stress of his no-good-very-bad day was bubbling to the surface; he was spoiling for a fight, St. Just deserved it and he really couldn't get into trouble if the old man started it, could he?

"I demand satisfaction! And a name, so that I may know who to send your corpse to," came the sneer.

The blonde threw his head back and laughed. He really couldn't help it – the whole situation was just so very amusing. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?" He set his flute down on a tray held by a passing waiter and rubbed his hands together gleefully, flexing his fingers and hearing the crack as they reveled in their new freedom after having been cramped around a pen for most of the day. "Let me explain something: I've died before. Twice. It holds no fear for me. And as for my name…" his eyes glinted ferally as a memory from years ago floated to the surface, and his lips quirked in wry amusement remembering a pair of children on a train platform and a darkly handsome arrogance, and the words came unbidden to his lips. The bastard Colonel really was rubbing off on him, he thought almost giddily.

"You can call me Edward Elric. Or just Lieutenant Colonel. Hell, you can even call me the Fullmetal Alchemist. But whatever you do…."

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist?" the crackly old voice was now incredulous. "You're still a stripling - barely even a man! How could you have done all those things people speak of?" And then a distasteful realization seemed to strike the old man as he gasped, "You're the lover he's been flaunting to the papers!"

"Yep, that would be me on both counts," Ed snarled without hesitation. "Emphasis on the latter. By the way, ability and age aren't related, asshole. Which is more than I can say for you and the Fuhrer, unfortunately."

Faint veins of red started to radiate outwards from the dark suns of the old man's eyes. "You have no right to speak of things you know nothing about! Do not think for one moment that being my son's _catamite_ gives you any right to address me in this manner!"

"Oh, so _now_ he's your son!" Ed roared back, wanting to hurt this man for hurting Roy, completely missing the slight to himself and utterly unheeding of the audience that had gathered around them, Ling Yao prominently in front with a delighted grin on his face. It was _such_ a privilege to watch a _qilin_ about to punish evil! Edward would definitely appreciate that Ling had even dragged over a few selected members of the press to record this for posterity. "Pity you didn't realize that back when you had the chance to be a real father instead of a complete jerk who let his son be beaten for things that weren't his fault!"

"I let him live! I gave him an education out of the goodness of my heart, let him hear the same lessons as my heirs! I was teaching him that no one owed him a living in the world, and I would have had him as my estate manager once he had learned his place! And he repaid me by running away and dabbling in _alchemy_. He was turned by that tutor I fired…" and then the old man looked thunderstruck as he stared at the golden-haired spitfire before him, things abruptly falling into place. The same hair…the same _eyes_.

The same last name.

"Blood is blood, huh, St. Just? Funny, neither Roy nor I asked to be the sons of our fathers, but here we are. If it makes you feel any better, Hohenheim Elric was a real asshole too. Maybe he picked up parenting skills from watching you." Ed cocked his head to one side, appraising St. Just narrowly. "But at least he went one better and actually gave me his name."

"Along with your charming personality, no doubt," came a wry and familiar drawl. "Fullmetal, must you always get yourself into these situations? I know you have a _short_ temper, but really…."

And Ed looked away from one pair of midnight blue eyes and into another pair that danced with silent amusement, a crooked smile on his face. "Shut up, bastard. I'm doing it for the man I love."


	36. Full Circle

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note:

Well, I derived great amusement from writing _Intermission: Perdition_ in-between putting together the two halves of this chapter, and no, it didn't take too much time away from this; light-hearted conversation rarely does, and they were talking so loudly in my head that I had to clear it out in order to write this chapter. Took me about an hour - I just think Ed and Roy would get along so well with Cloud and Sephiroth from FFVII. Can't you just see them doing dinner and swapping war-stories? Anyways….

As many of you must have guessed by now, this is the last chapter of _Full Circle_. All good things must come to an end, as they say, and what started as a single image in my mind has run its course into a novel-length story and come full circle. It's been an amazing ride, and I owe that to all of you wonderful readers, and an even deeper debt of gratitude to all the caring, lovely people who left me reviews and words of encouragement. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_. Words fail me. As I write this, _Full Circle _is on 219 people's favourites list, has been put in 16 c2 archives, and has received 759 reviews (do I hear an even 800?). It could not have happened without all of you. I thank you, Auric thanks you, and the Guild thanks you.

And now, on with the ball! And should you find our favourite characters getting a little maudlin towards the end, be kind…it's hard when things come to an end, after all. Even though every ending holds the seeds of a new beginning. As per my notes in _Intermission: Perdition_, I'll still be writing, so feel free to drop me a line from time to time. Who knows, perhaps if I get enough suggestions or requests, the story of Full Circle may someday find a tangent to its arc after all! _Omake_, anyone?Much love –NF.

_For song credits, please see the end of the story.

* * *

_

**_Chapter 36: Full Circle_**

Roy arched a brow at Ed's impetuous declaration of affection, struggling to keep his expression under control even as his heart seemed to leap into his throat. Was Ed…before the press…? He inclined his head inquiringly.

"Indeed? He must be a lucky man."

"He is, but then, you'd know, wouldn't you?" Ed asked amusedly, a wicked glitter in his eyes as he took in Roy's flustered bemusement. "Seeing as how you've always been a lucky bastard, Roy Mustang. A fact I seem to recall reminding you of before. Quit fishing for compliments."

Life is made up of moments, shining pearls strung together on the thread of a life. Each pearl uniquely perfect, a shimmering encapsulation of a million different things that mattered at the time the pearl was formed, a beginning and an end unto itself. And at the very core of each pearl, a single grain of truth, an impossibly tiny, prickly, sharp-edged package wrapped in the opalescent sheen of memory.

He was having one of those moments right now, Roy Mustang thought dazedly, and he was never, ever going to let it go. Inwardly, he was exultant, ecstatic, exuberant, wanting to shout his joy at the sure and certain knowledge that Ed loved him from the rooftops. Externally, however, his face was oddly still, the fires ablaze in his dark eyes the only sign that he had registered what had just been said and was aware of its ramifications. Every nerve in his body quivered, alert to all the players in their little parlor drama. In this moment, he knew, events had been set in motion that would bring one act of his life to a close and ring the curtain up on another.

Protagonist: Edward Elric, _alias_ Auric, Lieutenant Colonel in the Amestrian military, Fullmetal Alchemist, sometime Gatekeeper, loyal older brother, passionate lover, intensely private individual and hater of the press, had just proclaimed his feelings for the Fuhrer of Amestris publicly before witnesses. Ed's cheeks were flushed becomingly from the champagne, the exertion of dressing down his lover's asshole of a father when his gaze said that he would much rather have been _un_dressing said lover – and, just possibly, from the burning scrutiny of his lover's eyes raking their way possessively down his body as if checking for any signs of harm before slowly making their way back up to come to reclaim Ed's gaze. The Flame Alchemist came by neither his title nor his reputation lightly, and more than one female onlooker was forced to fan herself against the reflected warmth of his presence even while secretly wishing to be the object of that scorching regard, to be branded by the searing heat of his eyes. And yet the Fullmetal Alchemist smiled serenely, his eyes turning to molten gold that glowed with the light of a thousand suns as he watched the Fuhrer watching him.

Winry elbowed herself to the front of the gawking crowd of spectators. "Ed, when I said give him a signal…I meant…oh, I don't know, batting your damn eyelashes at him, not proclaiming your relationship with him to the press! Men! Have you never heard of subtlety?"

"This coming from a girl who throws wrenches at people?" Ed snorted derisively. He had been careful to check Winry's dress and purse for hidden objects on the pretext of security, so he was quite confident in his physical safety at the moment, and was proven right when Winry merely fumed and punched Al on the shoulder for lack of anything else to let her temper out on. "And anyway, subtlety was never my strong suit – that's the bastard Colonel's job. Besides, didn't you tell me that if we loved each other, there was nothing wrong with letting others share in the joy?"

Maes Hughes beamed smugly at Ed's blithe declaration, determinedly ignoring Gracia's warning nudge to his ribs. Good thing he'd prepared that press release on the Fuhrer's soon-to-be-Consort prior to this ball. He'd even thought to have copies waiting to be distributed to the press in attendance, and it looked like they were going to be needed! He did so love his job sometimes, and he sighed contentedly as he began to consider what official photographs they were going to need to release along with the statement. Perhaps one with Ed looking up adoringly at Roy, three-quarter face with Roy in profile…yes, that would work quite nicely, he thought. It would just be too much to hope for an actual kiss.

Antagonist: one Maximillian St. Just, Grand Duke of Hoffburg, member of the high nobility, last legitimate scion of the House of St Just, erstwhile unacknowledged father of the new Fuhrer of Amestris. The ravages of time had not been kind to his face, but there was a decayed, faded pride about his shoulders yet that spoke of his lineage, though his aristocratic features were currently twisted into a rictus of disdain as he eyed first the young blonde before him and then his bastard child who so resembled him, despite the odd smoothness and dark blue-black of his hair, and the exotic cant of his eyes. The bloodline of the St. Justs ran true in father and son; it was there for all to see in the shape of their hands and the fine bones that lay beneath the pale skin, in the high cheekbones and intensely dark gazes of midnight blue, and in the innate grace that never left them. Strange that his legitimate heirs had never resembled him in quite as striking a fashion.

"You confuse _Love_ with your own base desires, boy," sneered the aristocrat, vitriol dripping from his words. "However, I suppose the fault is not wholly your own – no doubt you were led astray by older heads who should have known better. But then breeding will always tell – his mother was no better than a whore, after all."

A gasp ran through the crowd at this blatant slight to the new Fuhrer, and Ed's vision abruptly hazed over as a red fog of rage came over him. In his peripheral vision he could see that Hawkeye and Havoc had appeared out of the crowd and moved to flank Roy at a discreet distance, watching their leader's back, and that Al had gently taken Winry's hand off his arm and was moving to stand by Ed's shoulder, his towering bulk enabling him to look down on St. Just with an uncharacteristic dislike in his grey eyes. The Fullmetal Alchemist began to bring his hands together, but forcibly checked himself as Roy's white-glove came down gently on his wrist, his lover's grip firm but somehow reassuring. A bright swirl of movement near the front of the crowd drew his attention, and Ed bit his lip as he met Ling's startlingly wise gaze, the prince shaking his head almost imperceptibly until the alchemist nodded reluctantly. He knew it was necessary that a son should be seen to deal with his father himself, but he didn't have to like it.

"Better a whore with honor than a cad without." Roy's drawl was studiously neutral, and yet the words fell heavily into the tense gulf between the two men who were so alike, and yet so different. "The former takes not advantage of the vulnerable except by their own desires; the latter inflicts naught but hurt on the weak."

His father hissed. "How dare you speak to me in that manner!"

"I was but making a general comment, Grand Duke. Honor is, after all, that noblest of traits, by which the humble may be acclaimed and without which the mighty are but petty knaves. However, if one believes the shoe fits…"

Ed blinked at the arch formality of Roy's language, so unlike his usual easy courtesy, but the intent look on Ling's face explained much – this was evidently a battle of a sort being fought in the high-flown language of the aristocracy, many of whom were gathered round and listening closely. While this was not his area of expertise, it was undoubtedly something that Ling would be very familiar with, and the alchemist was heartened by Ling's apparent approval of Roy's approach. Gatekeeper or no, Ed much preferred a direct approach to problems, so though he had every confidence in his lover, it never hurt to have an expert opinion on the subject, especially since this level of verbal fencing, couched as it was in the polite archaisms of drawing room language, made his teeth hurt. Ling's eyes were resting thoughtfully on first one man, then the other, as if trying to size up the contenders at a prize-fight. Which it was, Ed supposed, in a way. He knew who he was backing though, and he rubbed his wrist absently, his skin still tingling from where Roy had wrapped his fingers around it, missing the physical contact.

"You dare to insult me in so public a forum?" The Grand Duke's face was an unpleasant shade of maroon, and his bloodshot eyes darted about wildly. In contrast, the Flame Alchemist held himself in serene stillness, although there was something of the watchful feline about his gracefully relaxed posture, his dark eyes gleaming with sparks of phosphorescence as they caught the light.

"I merely put forward the predicate. It is you who choose to accept it," and a murmur of assent swept through the crowd. The old man glared furiously as many of the nobles in the crowd pursed their lips and nodded. He knew he was losing ground, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"Do not presume to educate me on rhetoric, boy! Might I remind you that it was at _my_ pleasure that you received your first teachings in it? I housed you, fed you, clothed you, and educated you - and received naught but grief in return. You owe me everything. You owe me your _life_."

"I am no _boy_, Grand Duke," and for the first time the younger man allowed a touch of frost to enter his voice, dusting upon his words like the fine powder of a first snow. "Indeed, if a man is reckoned by the sum of his achievements, my hoary years would put your fresh-faced youth to shame. And if we are settling household accounts, let us not forget that I paid for your charity in blood and beatings taken for your heirs, and that I relieved you of the _burden_ of my care as soon as was tenable. If there are debts outstanding in my name, they are to my country, for allowing me to serve her, and to my fellow citizens, for permitting one of my humble origins to lead them."

A sharp intake of breath ran around the room at the casual allusion to what was considered a barbarous practice, and at the confirmation that the Grand Duke St. Just had permitted it under his own roof. Women gasped and covered their whispers behind fans while men cleared their throats and shuffled their feet awkwardly. Ed glanced over at what he was coming to think of as the Ling barometer, and was reassured by the faint smile on the prince's face as he admired the adroitness with which Mustang had aired St. Just's dirty laundry while simultaneously playing on the audience's sense of pride in their own magnanimity and patriotism.

The old man's wrinkled lips thinned. "And what of _Reginald_? His death is upon your head and his blood on your hands! He would not have been at the front were it not for his misguided concern over your worthless life."

In the crowd, Maes Hughes stiffened. Cursing the Grand Duke for stooping so low as to use Reggie against the brother who had loved him so dearly, the big man began to shoulder his way towards his friend, wanting to be there for Roy as he had been back in Ishbal. A firm hand on his sleeve stopped him, however, and he turned in surprise to see Gracia shaking her head at him as she gestured discreetly with her chin. He followed her gaze to where it settled on the Fullmetal Alchemist. He looked back at his wife, confused for a moment, and then as Ed moved fractionally closer to Roy and was greeted with a faint smile of gratitude, understanding dawned and a wistful smile softened the granite set of his jaw. He might still be Roy's best friend, but no longer would the task of comforting Roy and holding away the nightmares fall to him. But that was all right, he thought, all right. Roy was in good hands.

Roy took a deep breath, amazed that he was still apparently in control of himself. "Reginald St. Just died a martyr for a cause he believed was just. It is in his memory, and that of all our dead, that I intend to rebuild Amestris and usher in an era of peace and solidarity with our neighbours. He was a doctor who believed in the sanctity of life and gave me reason to believe in the value of my own…a good and honourable man, my friend…and my brother, and not a day goes by when I do not mourn his loss. "

Ed's eyes burned fiercely at Roy's words, and he finally gave up on fighting the urge to slip his hand into his lover's, entwining his fingers with Roy's and squeezing, trying to convey through the warm pressure of his hand even a fraction of the love and pride he felt at that moment. St. Just's eyes followed the motion, and his lip curled in disgust.

"Do not besmirch the name of my son by speaking it while carrying on with your newest pet…."

"Enough." The single word fell like a hammer upon the ears, and such was the force and authority compressed into it that all who listened were suddenly reminded that the man who spoke was not merely a soldier or an alchemist or even the illegitimate son of one of the oldest noble houses, but the Fuhrer of Amestris. Roy Mustang's face was sere and cold, and though a chilling smirk played about his lips, it did not reach the burning coals of his eyes. "I have indulged your petty grievances long enough, Grand Duke. I have answered your accusations and I have allowed you considerable latitude in light of our…_relationship_. But you forget yourself and you forget to whom it is you speak. Might I remind you that speaking thus against the Fuhrer before so many witnesses might be construed as an act of _sedition_?"

The old man's eyes darted around the crowd, seeking support and finding none, not even among those of the aristocracy. He drew himself up, attempting to gather the tattered shreds of dignity around him. His mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out, and then finally, "I had demanded satisfaction from Colonel Elric before you interrupted. I _insist_…."

"You will insist _nothing_," the Fuhrer said with freezing calm, and the rapt audience recoiled instinctively, for his words were cold and sharp and glittering as shards of cut-glass. The candles set around the dome flickered abruptly and then blazed up for a moment, reminding all present that the new ruler of Amestris bore the title of Flame Alchemist for a reason "You _will_ recant your challenge or I will be forced to place you in custody. Under the laws of this country, State Alchemists are considered valuable assets to be used for the betterment of the state and deliberately endangering their lives is considered a criminal offence."

Ed bit his lip to stop himself from pointing out that it was St. Just who would be in danger in any duel with the Fullmetal Alchemist. It just wasn't the right time. Later, however….

Baron Hawkeye stepped out of the crowd, putting a hand on the Grand Duke's sleeve. "Come now, Grand Duke – don't do this to yourself. Leave things be. The Fuhrer's right…."

"I do not need your _pity_, Baron!" seethed the other.

"You have never had it, Grand Duke," rebuked the Baron. "Any shame you feel is entirely a product of your own actions. However, as a fellow noble, it is my responsibility to prevent you from further embarrassing yourself and your house."

"Go to hell."

The Baron pressed his lips tightly together, red-brown eyes narrowing, and for a moment, Ed could see a clear resemblance between father and daughter. The man's hand twitched, as if itching to reach for a gun. "It is a new world, St. Just. One which your _son_ will lead. And from all that I have seen and heard, he is a most impressive young man – intelligent, driven, charismatic and well-respected – everything you would expect from one descended from the line of the St. Justs. Can you not find some measure of pride and peace in that?" The thought that things might have been different had Roy Mustang been given the name of St. Just was all the louder for being left unsaid.

"He is no son of mine!"

Into the rift of silence torn by the viciousness of those words came a nervous giggle that was quickly suppressed. The Grand Duke looked about him with the confused, rheumy eyes of an old man, abruptly realizing that they were surrounded by members of the press bearing witness to his humiliation. He suddenly looked very frail, and very small, and very tired, Ed thought, and was surprised to find that he actually pitied the old man for his stubborn refusal to see that it was his own pride that had brought him to this state. In contrast, Roy's eyes were dark with old pain, his face bleak as his father repudiated him once again. There was a stillness in the air as everyone waited with bated breath for the Fuhrer's response.

"That may be so," Roy said finally. His voice was soft, and almost sad. "But you have always been my father. I am sorry. Would that things had been different…."

"Fuck you." The old man's voice cracked.

The dark mirrors of the Fuhrer's eyes glistened faintly as he turned away, but the mask of the ruler of Amestris was once again firmly in place. "You're confused, Grand Duke. That was my mother. I am hardly as easy a mark, and surely there are some things that even a man like you must consider taboo." He nodded at a couple of members of his security detail who were hovering at a discreet distance. "Escort the Grand Duke out, please – I think he's quite finished for the evening."

Surprisingly enough, Maximillian St. Just did not resist, and Roy did not watch him go, though his grip tightened painfully about Ed's hand as the click of the Grand Duke's boot heels faded into the distance. And then, as abruptly as if someone had turned up a dial on a radio, a painful hubbub arose about them as people began talking excitedly about the scandal they had just witnessed, and the press began mobbing everyone and anyone for quotes and views. In the tumult, Roy suddenly realized that Ed had disappeared, his hand tingling with residual warmth, and that it was Alphonse Elric who was steering him through the crowd, using his bulk to shoulder aside the more persistent even as Hawkeye and Havoc watched his back and his security detail drew up protectively around him. He could see Maes already holding an impromptu diversionary press conference of a sort off to the side, drawing attention away from Roy, which he was grateful for, but all he could think of was Ed and how much he wanted him here and where the hell was he?

Once again, Alphonse appeared to moonlight as a mind reader of sorts, because he turned and smiled at Roy reassuringly. "Brother will be right back sir, he's just…tying up some loose ends. Over there," and Roy turned his head in the direction Al was indicating. He saw Ed speaking quietly but heatedly to Grand Duke St. Just, and as they swept by, the Fullmetal Alchemist said with fierce intensity:

"…and if you come near him again…if you say anything against him again – hell, if I even _hear_ about you so much as _thinking_ about _breathing_ on him again – I _will_ find you, and I will _hurt_ you. In a _permanent_ sort of way. Are we _quite_ clear on that, St. Just?"

The blonde alchemist nodded to the guards flanking the Grand Duke without waiting for an answer. They snapped to and hustled the object of his ire off towards the exit, and Ed watched them go, an unreadable expression on his face, before he turned and met Roy's gaze. A fleeting look of surprise rose in Ed's golden eyes, and then he was jogging across the floor to meet them, the hesitant moue on his face making him look strangely vulnerable as he came to a stop in front of Roy. The others moved aside tactfully to give the two some privacy, and Roy found himself charmed by the sudden awkwardness on Ed's face as the immediate crisis melted away, leaving him looking as lost as Roy had felt moments ago.

"Hey bastard," shrugged the younger man finally. "Are you…you know…okay?" His hand made an abortive gesture to reach for Roy's, then fell back, the smallest of motions, as if its owner were unsure of its welcome. Roy stared blankly at him for a moment. Okay? In the space of a mere half-hour he had had the Fullmetal Alchemist proclaim publicly his love for the Fuhrer, been publicly repudiated by his father – and even though the old man never had acknowledged him as son, it still stung – and been forced to assert his authority as Fuhrer publicly over the man. His private life was being hung out for all to see, and he was being asked if he was…_okay_? And then Ed bit his lip, and his hand moved again, and this time it sought out its unresisting counterpart and laced its fingers through Roy's. Ed's warm grip was solid and reassuring, even through the gloves they were both wearing, and yet somehow hopeful and needy, and as if of its own accord, Roy felt his thumb brushing gently over the other man's palm, a repetitive stroke that somehow soothed and calmed. Ed offered up a tremulous smile, seemingly fully aware of the magnitude of what had just happened, and in his eyes Roy saw love, and acceptance, and determination, and concern, and hope. He took a deep breath and returned the smile, basking in the brilliance of Ed's responsive glow.

"I am now."

The dancing had started up again at some point – it was, after all, a ball, first and foremost - though Roy could not have said precisely when. Winry had rejoined them at some point and was now hanging off Al's arm smiling mischievously at the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists as she asked, "Well. Now that that's all sorted, which one of you is going to ask the other to dance?"

Ed blushed, but managed to summon up a glare. "Winry…."

"No, Fullmetal," Roy interrupted with a familiar smirk, "she has a point. This _is_ a ball after all. Would you do me the honour of granting me this dance?"

Al grinned. "You know, brother, the press can't exactly mob you on the dance floor – it is a serious breach of etiquette…" he trailed off meaningfully.

"Go on Boss," Havoc chimed in cheerfully, having long since given up any pretense of not eavesdropping. "You know you've just been waiting for an excuse to hug Mustang all day. And Brigadier Hughes ain't gonna hold off the press for much longer, even if he pulls out a photo album of Alicia."

"_Especially_ if he pulls out a photo album of Alicia," muttered Roy, sotto voce.

"Captain. Does the phrase, 'I'll transmute you inside-out and into next week' ring any bells?" snarled the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Havoc grinned and wrapped an arm a little more firmly around Hawkeye. "You wouldn't, not in front of Riza."

"I would never stand in the way of a superior officer," Riza Hawkeye intoned severely with the barest hint of a twinkle in her auburn eyes. "See you in a week, Jean."

Her beau yelped as Ed began to advance meaningfully on him, but was stopped dead in his tracks as Roy asked softly, "Edward. Did you mean what you said back there?"

A pause. A space between heartbeats. A lifetime in a moment. "Yeah. Damn it, bastard, why do you keep making me repeat myself?"

"Then dance with me."

All eyes were on the Fuhrer and his Consort as they promenaded gracefully out into the center of the dance floor, the crowd gathered around the edges making way for the handsome couple as a singer softly slipped into the strains of a popular romantic piece. Members of the Fuhrer's inner circle followed their leader in short order: the Earth Moving Alchemist and his vivacious wife, Brigadier General Hughes and his wife, ever the epitome of graciousness, and Major Hawkeye and her escort, Captain Havoc. The couples began to disperse on the floor, joining the other dancers, until the only ones left standing still were the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists. They made an attractive sight as they bowed to each other, one dark and one light, one luminously fair and one glowingly tan, one elegantly restrained, the other expressively lissome. A very small smile curved Roy's lips as he held out his hand, and after the briefest of hesitations, Ed took it and stepped forward into the encircling security of Roy's arms, the duo falling naturally into the rhythm of the music as if they had been dancing together all their lives.

_We were strangers  
__Starting out on a journey  
__Never dreaming  
__What we'd have to go through  
__Now here we are  
__And I'm suddenly standing  
__At the beginning with you_

Quicksilver memories of a full score of years flitted through Ed's mind as he moved easily in the steps of the dance. Two children rushing in where angels feared to tread…a train journey and a dramatic meeting…arguments, fights, moments of intimacy beyond words…remembering, finally remembering…fear at the thought of being rejected…joy at the realization that what he had wanted had been waiting for him all along. He spun lightly as Roy twirled him – he was allowing Roy to lead purely for practical reasons, he assured himself, Roy _was_ taller and all. As if reading his mind, Roy looked down through his lashes, a faint look of amusement on his face. Ed arched a brow at him interrogatively, daring him to say something, but his dark-haired lover merely chuckled softly and shook his head, holding him closer as they circled the perimeter of the floor gracefully. Ed could feel the warmth of Roy's hand on his waist, skillfully guiding him through the steps of the dance just as he had guided Ed throughout his quest for the Philosopher's Stone, and he laughed ruefully to himself at the metaphor. A good dancer could compensate for the shortcomings of his partner, and Roy was very good. He would have had to be, given the number of messes he had had to clean up on Ed's behalf. It had certainly been a journey of unforeseen trials and tribulations, including a sort of death and transfiguration, but in the end….

"Hey, Roy?"

The older man looked faintly surprised at Ed's use of his name. "Yes, Edward?" came the response, and Ed had to fight to keep from grinning foolishly at the way his first name rolled off Roy's tongue, soft as cream, languid as a summer breeze, simultaneously mocking and affectionate. Roy's scent seemed to be all about him, intoxicating in its nearness, and the urge to give in and snuggle into Roy's shirt-front was overwhelming. But he had to know, first.

"If you had to do it all over again – everything – starting with that night in Risembool...would you?" _Was it all worth it? Am I worth it?_

And with an immediacy of understanding that thrilled Ed's heart, that no one else but Al had ever been able to give him, Roy leaned forward and murmured, only for him to hear, so close that Ed could feel his warm breath ghosting past his ear, "In a heartbeat. As long as it would bring you back to me." _Yes. And yes._

_No one told me  
__I was going to find you  
__Unexpected  
__What you did to my heart  
__When I lost hope  
__You were there to remind me  
__This is the start_

Roy smiled at the adorably stunned look on the stunning, blushing blonde in his arms. While he had held many blondes in his arms before, he could say with a certainty that almost frightened him that this was the last one he would ever hold, and the first one he was going to keep captive. It seemed only fair, after all, since the young man before him had held his heart captive for the past four years, and would, the fates willing, continue to hold it for many more.

When he had trudged along that muddy dirt road in Risembool eight years ago, he had not expected to find children at the end of it. The letter he had received had been surprisingly adult, although the childish scrawl in which it had been written should have told him something. But in his eagerness to find news of his old tutor, he had overlooked that and set out almost immediately. And as it turned out, he had never found Hohenheim Elric. But in the end he had found so much more. A brilliant child prodigy who had dared the unspeakable and paid for it and yet survived, a child whose aureate eyes blazed with life and passion and a will that matched his own. Moved by this, he had offered his help, and it had been accepted. A judicious scepticism had turned to an almost paternal pride, which had turned to admiration…and then one day Roy Mustang had realized that admiration had become something more on his part. He had hidden that secret away, knowing that it was not for the world or its object to share. But fate had had a different idea. And now here they were. He drew Ed to him and rested his cheek lightly upon that golden head as they swayed slowly to the music, and revelled in the knowledge that Ed permitted him and no other to do so.

Actually, he was pretty sure that if anyone else tried to do that to the Fullmetal Alchemist, they would receive a black eye, split lip and multiple contusions for their trouble.

"This is nice," Ed sighed softly. "Peaceful. Don't want it to end. I mean, I know it has to but…."

"It's not an end," Roy corrected gently. "It's a beginning. You'll see. We're only just getting started."

_We were strangers  
__On a crazy adventure  
__Never dreaming  
__How our dreams would come true  
__Now here we stand  
__Unafraid of the future  
__At the beginning with you_

Ed lifted his head and looked about them. Riza and Jean were holding each other close, lost in their own little world. Gracia had just thrown her head back and laughed merrily at something Maes had whispered to her, the big man's eyes adoring as he gazed upon his wife. And then there was Winry being spun easily by Al, the latter grown taller than his brother – _grown_ to be a _man_, and Ed felt his eyes burning with unshed tears as he looked upon the fulfilment of his life's greatest goal, to restore his brother's body. He had never really dared to dream for more, and yet he had hoped that someday, somewhere, someone would look at him at the way that his brother and his best friend looked at each other. Having that person be Roy was not something he had planned in his crazy life, but he couldn't think of anyone else he would rather have it be.

Hell, he was turning into a sap. This was very disturbing. And definitely all the bastard Colonel's fault. He'd get him back for that. But it could wait until tomorrow, and Ed laid his head back against Roy's shoulder and sighed contentedly.

_I knew there was somebody somewhere  
__Like me alone in the dark  
__Now I know my dream will live on  
__I've been waiting so long  
__Nothing's going to tear us apart_

Roy followed his lover's gaze to the tall figure of Alphonse Elric, and saw the telltale glistening in Ed's eyes, though he tactfully said nothing, allowing Ed his privacy. Couples continued to sweep around them on the dance floor, but they were careful to leave the Fuhrer and his partner a wide berth. Ambassador Ling Yao passed by and dipped his head briefly in acknowledgement, and the respect in the gesture shocked Roy's mind into a heightened state of awareness. The new ruler of Amestris blinked as the thought suddenly sank in.

Fuhrer.

He, Roy Mustang, was now…Fuhrer. He had finally discharged the oath he had taken all those years ago amidst ash and flame on a battlefield in Ishbal as he watched the casket holding his brother's body readied for transport, the vow that no other man should have to know the pain of losing his brother at the foolish vagaries of an uncaring ruler, and he felt his knees go weak at the realization as hot tears prickled behind his lids. He blinked them away furiously, as he lifted his chin determinedly and stared off into the distance, not wanting anyone to see him in his moment of weakness. And then his eyes fell on a dark-haired man a little ways away, his face indistinct through the shimmering haze of his vision. Yet he knew that face, that smile, that shy tilt of the head, and he smiled back through his tears, his lips moving silently. _For you, Reggie. And now I can finally let go of you, my brother, because I'm no longer alone. Goodbye._ And the man nodded affectionately back, even as his face resolved into that of Maes Hughes, smiling understandingly at his dearest friend, knowing that Roy had finally made peace with his ghosts, accepting that while he had initially been a replacement of sorts for Reggie, he and Roy had managed to forge their own brotherhood independent of Reginald St. Just's shadow.

The Flame Alchemist looked back down at the golden head that rested so trustingly against him, breathing in the scent of sunlight and heated steel. No, he was no longer alone. The darkness was past them. And he was going to keep it that way, thank you very much.

_Life is a road  
__And I want to keep going  
__Love is a river  
__I want to keep flowing  
__Life is a road  
__Now and forever  
__Wonderful journey_

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you come home to stay now?"

"I promised, didn't I? And it really is all over now. So yes. Your house is nicer than the dorms, anyway."

"I love you, you know."

"Do you know, I believe that's the first time you've ever said that to me?"

"I wanted to wait until it would be the beginning of something and not another farewell."

"Idiot paranoid bastard Colonel. But anyway…I love you too. Now shut up and kiss me."

_I'll be there when the world stops turning  
__I'll be there when the storm is through  
__In the end I want to be standing  
__At the beginning with you_

_**THE END**_

* * *

_The song, "At The Beginning" Richard Marx/Donna Lewis comes from the soundtrack to the animated motion picture, "Anastasia." It's a sweet song which encapsulates for me the concept of everything coming Full Circle, especially the refrain which goes, "In the end I wanna be standing/At the beginning with you." I've taken the liberty in the text of changing "wanna" to "want to" just because I doubt Amestrians would use the informal contraction! The song is probably a little out of place as is, but I love it and the thought of Roy and Ed dancing to this was just too much to resist. I highly recommend a listen if you can find it. And with that I must leave you. Au revoir!_


End file.
